#I still am not super conversational with it but! it made me happy

[cornflowershade]

Successfully communicated a bit in Thai todayyy ☺️ (ordered food for the first time and understood/answered some follow up questions. Also had a small unrelated exchange !!)

[finniestoncrane]

Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way.  Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl…  good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

[bamsara]

trod au ramble u can ignore

when i say slowburn in an enemies to friends to lovers for Trod I mean slowburn. 300k before Narinder even openly admits he cares for the Lamb, and Lamb actually opens up more than just a shield of positivity and another 100k of character growth, drama, complicated intricacies of grief and anger to communication. The Lamb has boundaries and sticks by them constantly in trod, they're not a pushover, but they don't blow up and react in explosive anger the same way that Narinder does and they are mistaken for soft by him for it, when it's him having to be the one who is constantly re-evaluating his priorities and his behavior because the lamb isn't taking shit from him, despite patience and love, and he's put in this position where he's allowing the grief and the hurt to keep hurting himself and the Lamb in the process, until he risks losing them and Narinder makes the active decision to work on himself. They HAD a healthy, wonderful friendship before, he cared for them. He still does. He wishes he didn't but god he still does.

but i dislike when characters do one change or have one realization and suddenly they're super nice. no I want them to be continuously complex. I want their bad habits and miscommunication to not instantly or quickly disappear, I want continuous effort from the wronger. do you hear me. CONTINUOUS EFFORT. that means a character fucking up again and again and relasping and changing and cursing and being like well he doesn't need to be any different because its not his fault then going back and being like. no. it was my fault. i am wronged and I am the wronger. i need complexities. Let us not forget the definition of 'enemy' in the enemies to friends to lovers here. if they start off soft then where is the growth. Where is the room for growth I want. Where is it.

they get to the processing of emotions they haven't allowed themselves to feel properly for centuries to take this friendship gone sour by betrayal, plagued by anger and hurt to something slowly blooming back into trust and care and soft until eventually its this healthy love of these uberly overpowered pair of gods

Trod bad end is when Narinder just speed runs the 'rehabilitation' part of the rehabilitation of death' and it circles back to him going feral in the head. Still an asshole? okay your lamb is gone. regret your pride and ego because the patient love you were afforded is gone forever and the last memory you gave them was not the love you could have given them but it will be the love that destroys mortality to get them back.

amnesia au Narinder is just happy to be here. no betrayal, no angst. eventually when his memory does return and he gets caught pretending he doesn't remember just so he can be sweet to them without his pride in the way will force a conversation that will essentially fix the horrific communication these two have. speedrun trod x2

Current Trod Narinder is a emo angsty bastard who's rightfully hurt at being imprisoned and (in his heart) betrayed by someone he trusted dearly (again) while Post-Trod Narinder is still a feral bastard but with truly un-constipated, true equal love for the Lamb that wears a wedding ring made of his own blood to the tune of 'i miss my wife tails' and got a praise kink

but if its not absolute hell getting to that point then WHAT IS THE POINT

and all these are mostly about Narinder but don't even get me started on the Lamb's issues. That sheep thang is hiding shit.

Except I can't talk about the Lamb's hiding issues Too Much yet unless you've been in my art streams and have seen some of my comics, then IYKYK but aaaaaaaaaaUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHG

[causenessus]

I HIT 30 TAGS WAYY TOO FAST BUT THIS WAS SO GOOD RYE OMG PLEASE EVERYONE READ THE NIGHT SHIFT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT!!! (rest of my tags are under cut <3)

the night shift — warmth

day 1 | masterlist | day 3

now playing: behind the moon shadow by lamp

kageyama watches as she rings up the last group of teenaged boys, the surplus of energy drinks and candies and chips failing to concern him. he thinks of her in her drunken, vulnerable, and giggly state, and her now, shielded and strong-eyed. the difference is evident in her stance, in her posture, in her tone. the group filters out and the jingle of the door marks the end of the night shift.

they follow their usual routine -- wiping down counters, taking note of stock, shutting off the heater -- and they move in tandem as they do so.

except, this time, she waits at the door.

"what are you doing?" he asks. his voice cracks ever so slightly.

she laughs at him, the noise filled with a heavy warmth that he finds unfamiliar. "waiting for you, of course. did you forget i was treating you tonight?"

he wants to tell her that he could never forget. that it never left his mind the entire shift. instead, he mutters, "a little, yeah."

again, she laughs, and it's whole. a far cry from what he perceived of her before, based on the cold shoulder she'd given him months prior.

the lights flicker off behind them, just like last night and every other night. she lifts a hand to her eyes to protect from tonight's harsher winds, with a sheepish admission that she doesn't quite have the funds to get something for either of them. "is it alright if we head to my place, instead? i can make you something," she offers.

he nods faster than he should.

——

it's awkward.

the lamps scattered around the house illuminate the kitchen and the dining table where he sits with his hands folded neatly on his lap and his leg bouncing up and down incessantly. despite all the uncomfortable silence, he feels a warmth that he hadn't experienced in a long, long while. maybe it's the air, he thinks, or the lighting, or the steam rising from her bubbling pot. but he doesn't think of comfort.

she stands over the stove with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her weight shifted to one leg. two packs of ramen reside on the counter beside her, both ripped open with tiny remnants of uncooked noodles. he watches her crack an egg in with one hand, then another egg with another hand. the pot stirs, and the water boils some more before simmering down to rest.

"spicy foods are great for winter, you know. helps to keep warm," she shares, an attempt at loosening the tension. her slippers click against the floor as she nears with the pot in her hands. the burning red hue of the soup and the assortment of vegetables reminds him of a meal from home.

the silence is less tense when they eat. they take turns as they pick up their own portions, her bites mirroring his. she chuckles at the pink spreading across his face from the heat, a mindless comment about his spice tolerance spilling from her lips naturally, and he can't find it in himself to argue with her. kenma's voice rings out in the background, and neither of them pay any mind to it.

a thought lingers in the air — whether or not he'd be in her house if it weren't for that accidental call. they don't want to dwell on it. good food is a good enough distraction.

"do you do anything outside of work?" the question disrupts the silence. he tears his eyes away from the meal and looks to her.

"volleyball. i play volleyball most of the time."

at that, she releases a hum and a nod, and he can't tell what it means. "yachi told me about that," she begins, her statement cut off by her own slurps. "why not go pro?"

he pauses. it's a simple question, but any semblance of an answer falls flat on his tongue.

it takes a moment before he responds. "i want to focus on myself first."

she can hear the bitterness behind it.

it's quiet again. they each take their last bites and the pot sits on the table completely empty, drained of all that it once had. together, they stack the collection of dishes up into a neat pile before she takes them to the sink, the water turning on and serving as white noise. porcelain clinks against metal in random bouts, and the warmth of the meal settles into sleepiness.

"what about you?" kageyama inquires, both an attempt to avoid silence and to keep himself awake.

"i don't have anything else to do outside of work."

her answer is instantaneous, a stark contrast to his, but similarly, it bears a hint of discontent. she bites the skin of her lower lip to redirect herself. "not that i really need anything else. or want anything else, for that matter. at least right now."

there's more to it. they both know that. but he glances at the clock hung atop one of the many lamps and realizes it's far too late to stay any longer. she jokes about how she couldn't care less, and it's natural. it flows.

the door closes behind him. she stands in the center of the living room with something heavy in her chest.

ᡣ𐭩 a lot of this smau is going to be convos between the frolickers gc bc i love them sm and they make everything feel natural

ᡣ𐭩 yams and yachi had the worst shift of their LIFE. an old lady came in and ordered the most complicated drink and when they couldnt get it down she started cursing them out </333

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama has a bad (?) habit of observing yn all the time. i hope it doesnt come off as stalker-ish i just think he’s a very analytical / people-watching person 😭

ᡣ𐭩 yn made shin ramen 😄😄

ᡣ𐭩 kags has an okay spice tolerance. he won’t throw up and die from spice but he will get super red and sweaty

ᡣ𐭩 i actually have no idea if i said this before but since new grounds and the convenience store are on the same street, yn and yachi tend to meet up during their breaks to talk and hang out !! they love gossiping about anything and everything hence why yn knew about kageyama’s vb stuff

ᡣ𐭩 similar to yn with kuroo and kenma, the frolickers gc is kag’s support system. he tries not to doubt their concern. he’s also just very avoidant so they try not to pry too much 😭😭

ᡣ𐭩 i hope this chapter was cutesy and nostalgic and warm and everything else that reminds you of home !! thats the vibe i was going for ^_^

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @cupidsblonde @winniethepooh-lover

[angelpregdreams]

a blessing

content: rapid fpreg, cult-y vibes, labor, birth, birth of an entity's offspring, uhhh not-super-happy ending???

wc: 2500+

When she was a little girl, Dove would be brought to sit in the middle of the town once a month. Her nanny, the person charged with her care and preservation, would painstakingly ensure she was sitting still and kept her eyes averted from the townsfolk. Dove’s veil was always drawn over her face, obscuring her from being viewed fully by anyone. 

That was her life. From birth to her first bleed, Dove would have to sit and be stared at once a month. Her nanny never gave her the reason for the action, nor did she explain why it suddenly stopped when blood came from her body. 

Dove sighed and fiddled with her fingernails now. Realizing that it was far more common for those in her home to avoid answering her questions, than it was for them to give her any answer - let alone one she could believe. It was a point of contention she had been headstrong about, especially lately. Everyone had gotten quieter around her and it had begun to weigh on her mind, making it the only thing to fill her days. 

Her nanny, Wynn, was the only one permitted to talk to her once the sun had set, and being kept locked away in her room most of the day, it all left very little access to any conversation. Dove tried not to dwell on her loneliness, but as the years continued to pass by and less and less people were allowed to even be near her…it was getting harder to ignore.

As she continued to worry at her nails, Wynn came around the hallway - giving the girl a hard look as she did so. “Stop picking, Dove. You know better.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dove replied instinctively, pulling her hands apart so she could tuck them up under her thighs. “Forgive me.” 

Wynn nodded once, the hard look fading as she stared at the young woman. The nanny came up to the chair Dove sat at, holding her hand out. “You’re forgiven, sweet girl. Forgive me for being so strict. It has been…a long week.” She said, squeezing Dove’s fingers as the woman put her hand in her’s, “it will all come to pass.”

“I know,” Dove said, although she wasn’t quite sure she did know anything, “am I due for dinner soon?”

“Not tonight, sweetling. Tonight…” Wynn trailed off, tugging Dove up from her seat, “tonight, you will be a part of a feast.” 

Excitement made Dove’s eyes grow wide, eagerly rising to meet her nanny. A feast meant more people, and less rules. Being a part of a feast was always a highlight for her, as it broke up the monotony of the exceedingly dull every day. 

“Now come on,” Wynn continued, “let’s get you dressed.”

Nearly an hour later, Dove finally joined those in the massive dining hall, taking her seat at the foot of the table, which was customary. She was dressed in pure white, her veil, nearly opaque, and drawn over her face. There was no ability to see her face, but her dress was revealing. A deep V showed off her cleavage, her body displayed through the nearly sheer, white dress she was placed in. Wynn had her clothing picked out for her already, meaning Dove simply had to deal with it.

Those around her chatted happily with one another, all of them dressed in dark blue. Dove tilted her head in slight confusion, knowing the dark color was only used to indicate nights of honor. Now that she considered it, she was unsure of what this feast was intending to celebrate. 

Dove looked for her nanny, but couldn't find her familiar face. Heart beating rapidly in her chest, she began to worry. Has the night finally come? She wasn't warned at all, no one…no one told her. Tears pooled in her eyes but she sat back in her chair, knowing no one would be able to see them. 

For hours, food was passed around, people spoke in jovial tones, and some even came up to her directly. Dove did enjoy the attention, fawning under those that would actually look at her, however she began to notice the heavy absence of Wynn the longer the night went on. 

When her nanny finally reappeared, the dining hall went silent. 

Dove swallowed thickly as Wynn strode towards her, the woman's heels clicking with each step. She flinched when her nanny reached out a hand for her to take, but didn't recoil away. Wynn's hands were soft as always, and silently, Dove appreciated that constant. She led her out of the dining hall, the feast’s guest trailing behind them just enough to let Wynn speak to her quietly. 

“You will be introduced to Our Lord tonight, sweetling.” Wynn whispered, guiding Dove out into the courtyard. “You know what is expected of you, yes?” 

Nodding, Dove responded with words a few seconds later, “yes, nanny. Remove my clothing, except my veil, then I climb onto the altar. After that I lay on my back, close my eyes, and open-” She stumbled over the last few words, feeling her stomach twist awkwardly, “a-and, open my legs.” 

“Good girl,” Wynn praised, patting her hand. She stopped at the edge of the grass, looking at the hedges that made up the Altar Garden before glancing at Dove. “You were raised to do this, my sweet girl. You're a woman now at 25…and being a woman is very hard. But you know your body is built for this…for what it will go through.” 

Her nanny released her hand, looking away and back to the hedges, silently urging her to go forward on her own.

Dove hesitated, feeling the eyes of the rest of the guests on her back as she deliberated stalling as long as she could. One of her feet moved forward on its own and suddenly, Dove was walking past the hedges and into the garden properly. Silently, she came around the corner, stepping into the private garden. Her eyes never left the altar in front of her, but her body trembled slightly in fear.

Remembering her duty, Dove nodded once to herself, resolved to her fate - whatever that may be.

With shaking hands, she plucked her shift over her shoulders and let it slip to the ground. Her body bare, but her veil still in place, Dove released a breath to will away her nerves. It didn’t work, she realized, as she was climbing up to the flat surface of the altar to the Stag Lord. Her muscles were still tense, even as she laid out on her back. There was a moment where her body felt like it was falling as she spread her legs apart, causing her to gasp in shock and try to catch herself. 

Dove blinked quickly, suddenly aware of her body, still laying flat on her back and not falling from the sky. Only now she wasn’t alone - the guests from the feast were at the foot of the altar, knelt in reverence from the view between her spread thighs. She knew she couldn’t move, she was always told not to move on the altar until she was given permission to do so, but the urge to snap her legs shut was strong and one she had to fight. 

Attempting to regulate her breathing at her sudden panic, Dove dug her nails into her palms, trying to keep herself grounded. 

It didn’t help when her belly began to feel warm, a soft coiling of comfortable warmth pulled at her core. Unable to contain her gasp of surprise at the rolling of her stomach, Dove snapped her mouth shut after it happened. Someone had heard it in the crowd and several murmurs broke out amongst the guests. Her cheeks red from embarrassment after her outburst, but happy to have her face be hidden, Dove closed her eyes again and began to pray.

The tugging and coiling in her belly was distracting and she fought the urge to wiggle her hips, unsure about the feeling she was having. Her womanhood tingled and she gasped, tossing her head back onto the stone under her. 

The crowd only seemed to become more exuberant as her noises got louder, Dove not really understanding but doing as she was told, remaining on the altar.

Just as quickly as the warmth came and made her belly flip in excitement and…anticipation, it disappeared. Leaving her in a panting mess, Dove blinked away shocked tears, urging herself not to cry. Either in excitement or nerves, she wasn’t sure, but she prayed not to break down into tears.

The crowd seemed to come back to silence as the minutes passed, and through the small bit she could see through her veil, they returned to kneeling positions. It looked like they were in prayer, some of them weeping through their words. 

Dove’s brows came together in slight confusion, first at the prayers and then by the sudden pressure building in her belly. She grunted and wiggled her fingers slightly in discomfort, the pressure nestling deep in her core and adding weight to her middle. Dove blinked, watching in slight wonder as her middle began to swell outwards, more and more pressure building between her hips.

Making a noise of displeasure, Dove spread her thighs wider apart in an instinct she couldn’t describe. “Wha-what is…?” She was able to get out before another coil wrapped around her belly making her whine in desperation. The weight continued to grow, but instead of answering her worried pleas, the guests continued their prayer. Even as Dove begged for them to explain what made her belly swell outwards so much it put strain on her hips and lower back. She felt a constant stream of tears on her face, moving and shifting uncomfortably under the new weight, but she never got off the altar. In all of her discomfort, Dove never disobeyed. 

“She’s blessed.” One of the guests whispered, the only words she could catch before the swelling continued. This time her belly looked full term and a few weeks, the pressure in her womb was new and unfamiliar. Something felt like it sat directly between her hips and the weight of it forced her legs as wide apart as they would go, her cheeks burning in shame at her display. The crowd didn’t seem to mind however, their eyes downcast even as they murmured amongst themselves. 

Dove wasn’t sure when the pain started, but the weight in her belly shifted and she felt a sudden gush of fluid from her womanhood. She whined in embarrassment, screwing her eyes shut as if to will herself away from this place, away from the eyes on her that felt too heavy to be human. Dove grunted, feeling her newly swollen middle clench in pain. Her focus on the crowd around her began to wane and she turned inward, feeling every shift in her belly from whatever made it swell outward. 

The pain made her insides clench, and she felt something settle deep between her hips. It made her cry out in surprise, the spread of her body around what was coming out making her body flinch. Her womanhood felt like it began to pulse, an ache creeping between her hips. 

“A blessing!” Someone cried out, the only words she caught before another pain made her groan, and jerk her hips downward. 

She grumbled deep in her chest at the words they uttered in awe. The pain that had attacked her so suddenly felt very much not a blessing. Something felt like it was trying to tear her apart, that whatever was in her womb was going to tear her apart. Dove let out a sharp cry, feeling her stomach tense and the stretching feeling, the one with her hips feeling like they were being stretched apart, increased. In a nearly dazed state, Dove went with her body’s instincts, and pushed. 

It hurt.

Everything in Dove’s body hurt and screamed at her to stop this, but she didn’t know how, except to get rid of what was inside of her. Pushing seemed like the most logical thing to do, the only thing she could think to do in her current state. The crowd of onlookers disappeared from her mind then, focusing only on herself, this horrible pain, and whatever was inside of her desperate to come out. 

Pushing again and again with her pain, Dove screamed and arched her back with the last push, feeling her womanhood spread apart. Her folds parted and when a small sliver of the head was visible, the crowd began to murmur in excitement. It broke her concentration, making her flinch and drop her head back onto the altar with a groan. There was no comfort, even as her body struggled to relax between pains. Dove whined and felt her body tense with another crippling pain, forced to push with it against her will. 

Mentally she was fighting this, but her body was going with what was dealt to her. Frankly, it made her furious. Her devoted service was repaid with this? She thought. The Stag Lord was unkind in his justice.

Dove screamed and pushed, her pussy burning as it was pulled tight around the blessing that was coming from her body. Something was tugging on her womanhood as she pushed down, like her folds struggled to part fully around it. 

“Nughhh!” Dove cried, drawing it out to a harsh scream as she pushed again and felt her womanhood give. The blessing hung out of her, making her drop her knees farther apart as she felt the thing between her legs, tears spilling down her cheeks. 

What was hanging out of her moved and Dove whimpered in surprise. The stretch of her womanhood was lessened now but still it felt too heavy in her core, the weight of it too much for her body to handle. 

Another pain made her moan, eyes screwing shut. The urge to push returned after a few moments of her trying to catch her breath, the pain accompanying it. Pushing gave her little relief, the thing in her fighting every single one it seemed. The noises she made got louder and she couldn’t control how her muscles twitched upon the altar. Dove was far from her perfect self, instead, she was exposed, vulnerable, and disheveled. A mix of angry tears joined her pained ones and she cried out, pushing.

She continued to push even as the pain passed, and her body finally released its hold on the blessing inside of her. It slipped from between her legs, upon the altar, in a gush of fluid. When it cried sharply, like a baby would, Dove felt herself freeze. 

Finally, everything settled into place in her mind and she continued to cry, realizing what had just happened. The Stag Lord had used her purity, taken it, and brought forth his offspring with it, and it made her sob. 

The crowd erupted in cheers and cries of happiness. The blessing between her trembling legs also cried out, until it was shushed by someone just out of Dove’s vision. Wynn approached her and brought a thin sheet to cover Dove, whispering sweetly in her ear. 

“You did beautifully,” Wynn cooed, “you’ll do even better next time.”

[onlyangel4]

healing a heart i didn't break. LH44. MV1. SMAU. part two.

cheater! lewis hamilton x reader. max verstappen x reader.

when your boyfriend of three years fumbles, his rival is there to put the pieces of your heart back together bit by bit.

warnings: 14 year age gap with lewis. cursing. cheating. super super angsty.

author's note: this is still building up the angst the proper max fluff will be next. for context reader and lewis broke up eight weeks before the austin gp.

part one // part three

faceclaim: camilla morrone

f1wags

liked by user12, f1fan22, user 45 and 12,382 others

f1wags: y/n y/ln and alexandra saint mleux pictured on a dog walk out near y/n's childhood home. this is the first time y/n has been pictured in a week following the revelation that lewis hamilton had been cheating on her with y/exbff. no one knows how long they have been cheating but sources seem to think it did not start last weekend and has actually been going on longer. we hope that y/n is okay.

view all 439 comments

user12: oh how i would love to hear the goss

user45: alex looked angry in some of the other pictures. i just know y/n is sitting on business

f1fan22: alex flying out to see her is true friendship y/exbff could never.

y/ninsta

liked by maxverstappen, alexandrasaintmleux, charlesleclerc and 680,928 others

y/ninsta: i'll be okay. i've got my girl.

tagged alexandrasaintmleux

view all 9,720 comments

alexandrasaintmleux: my love, i am honestly amazed how strong you have been the past three weeks. i wish to be half the woman that you are.

y/ninsta: i would not have been this strong without you and charles alex. i love you both, thank you for taking me in before i found my new place.

y/nfan: lewis cheated on her with her best friend and took the house and roscoe (WHO THEY BROUGHT WHEN THEY WERE TOGETHER) all y/n got was her husky lilo and a broken heart. I HATE MEN

charlesleclerc: i took this photo

y/ninsta: yes charles you did. well done

user37: y/n is gentle parenting charles omg

maxverstappen: hope you have been okay y/n, been thinking of you recently, missing you around the paddock.

liked by y/ninsta

user17: omg even max in on her side

f1wags

liked by f1fan43, user48, y/nlover and 34,589 others

f1wags: y/n is in her revenge dress era. the ex wag has arrived at the austin gp. she came in and watched fp1 and fp2 with charles and alex and is in the ferrari garage. we here at f1wags are so happy to see her back in the paddock. also lewis and the other girl have arrived but i don't want to post about that.

view all 8,183 comments

y/nlover: what a serve

f1fan43: THE OTHER GIRL even wag pages hate y/exbff

user48: lewis hamilton found screaming, crying, throwing up in the merc garage

user21: did you guys see max. he saw y/n walk in he stopped what he was doing jogged over to her and they had like a proper long conversation.

f1updates

liked by hamiltonupdates, f1fan, user23 and 34,5672 others

f1updates: a story in two pictures.

picture one: lewis and y/n were photographed arguing behind the mercedes motorhome. y/exbff was also there. the video shows them talking to y/n and then y/n running off crying.

picture two: a shaky video captures the moment max watched y/n run off crying and he jogged after her. she said something to him and then he pulled her into a hug while she sobbed on his shoulder. he led her inside but when she pulled away from the hug max's white shirt was almost see through. y/n is obviously going through it. we are left wondering what lewis and y/exbff told her.

view all 7,625 comments

f1fan: oh thank god for max, she looked so lost. looking around for someone to help her while paparazzi started calling her name when she was fucking sobbing.

hamiltonupdates: i am really questioning lewis rn

user23: y/n would not have gone to talk to him about just anything. this has to be big.

y/exbff

liked by lewishamilton, friendone, friendtwo and 342,837 others

y/exbff: sixteen weeks ago we made what we thought was a massive mistake that we vowed to never talk about but eight weeks ago we discovered it was the best thing ever to happen to us. baby coming march next year,

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taglist: @sinofwriting @toldyouitwasamelodrama @formulaal

@minkyungseokie @shrbehndwn @gr1mes-cc @nichmeddar

@liberty-barnes

[theetherealbloom]

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.2

Chapter Two: Hold On For Dear Love

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction, Kissing,

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: Chat, I am giving the reader a super vague background, like it won't matter too much, lol. You’re here for the vibes, and so am I ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So this entire fic isn’t gonna be overly complicated, I don’t think this is the fic for that. I mean, they put sharks in the Colosseum, so… we’re going to take some liberties here and there for funsies. It’s fanfiction, it’s supposed to be fun :> ALSO YA’LL I GOT INTO A GROOVE. I wasn’t planning on updating til next week but the words kept coming to me and suddenly I’m done with chapter two hehe. AND YES YES SHUSH NEXT CHAPTER IS SMUT. MAYBE. Ok enjoy girlies heheh.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Hymn To Virgil by Hozier

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SENATOR THRAEX’S PARTY — DAY

The grand villa was alive with music, laughter, and the heady scent of roasted meats and spilled wine. Senators, high-ranking officials, and Rome's wealthiest citizens mingled among trays of fruit and platters of delicacies, their voices filling the air with a cacophony of conversation and self-indulgent boasts. Courtesans draped in sheer silks wove through the throng, their laughter as light and false as the smiles of their patrons.

You stood to the side, partially hidden in the shadow of a marble column. The position offered a semblance of privacy while giving you a clear view of the room. You made mental notes of the faces present—senators, generals, and merchants, all drunk on wealth and power. Their alliances and rivalries played out in every guarded glance and overly polite toast.

Senator Gracchus approached you with a goblet of wine, his face etched with age but kind. “You look like a soldier observing a battlefield,” he remarked dryly.

You smiled faintly, accepting the drink. “It feels like one. Though I’m not sure which side I belong to.”

Gracchus chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “In Rome, one must always choose a side, my dear. Even if that choice is to appear invisible.”

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted. “Ah, the daughter of misfortune graces us with her presence.” Senator Thraex’s saccharine tone drew the attention of those nearby. He strode toward you, his beady eyes alight with thinly veiled mockery. “I was just telling Gracchus how tragic your loss must have been. Your poor parents—what a terrible end.”

Your jaw tightened, but you forced a polite smile. “Your concern is appreciated, Senator. They are at peace now.”

Thraex clasped his hands, feigning sympathy. “Still, such a pity. A young woman like you, left all alone in this cruel city. Surely by now, you should have found a husband to protect you from its dangers?”

The words stung, though you refused to let it show. Keeping your tone steady, you replied, “I fear my reputation for independence precedes me. Not all men wish to marry someone who refuses to play the meek lamb.”

Gracchus coughed into his goblet, poorly disguising a laugh, while Thraex’s smile faltered. “How... peculiar,” he said, his tone sharper now. “Though perhaps not surprising. It would be difficult to find a suitor for one so... outspoken.”

The room seemed to hum with energy as Thraex’s face, darkened with irritation from your earlier remark, shifted into a mask of forced hospitality when his gaze landed on a man entering the crowd—a towering figure wrapped in silk and jewels, his presence as commanding as it was enigmatic. You followed Thraex's movement as he moved to greet the man, a name rippling through your thoughts: Macrinus.  

You had heard whispers of him before. A former gladiator who had fought for his freedom, now a powerbroker in Rome. He supplied food, wine, and oil for the empire’s armies, manufactured weapons, and even maintained a stable of gladiators. His name carried weight, his connections extending into the darkest corners of Roman politics.

As Thraex approached Macrinus, his false charm returned, his arms spreading wide. “Macrinus!” he greeted, his voice dripping with exaggerated warmth. He clapped the man on the shoulder with an enthusiasm that bordered on theatrical. “I knew the provinces could never contain you.”

Macrinus accepted the embrace with a faint smirk, his dark eyes scanning the room with calculated ease. “I’m just here for the games,” he replied, his tone casual, though there was a hint of something sharper beneath the surface.  

Thraex chuckled, his grip lingering on the man’s shoulder. “Ah well, you won't be disappointed. Rome has all the games that men like you like to play.”

“Men like me, cracks men like us.” Macrinus shot back, his grin widening. “I know nothing happens in Rome unless you… tasted it first! ”

Thraex laughed at the jab, the sound too loud to be sincere. Their exchange continued, a dance of veiled threats and mutual amusement. You lingered at the edge of the room, doing your best to blend into the shadows, your ears straining to catch every word.  

Thraex handed Macrinus a gilded chalice of wine, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “What's this we hear about you being interested in standing for an election to the senate practice?”

Macrinus stiffened, his surprise poorly concealed as he let out a dry chuckle. “Me? You know, I don't even know how to use an abacus,” He sipped his wine before adding with a wry smile, “but I do understand that… it's customary for your guests to make wagers at these affairs.”

Thraex’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his smile didn’t falter. “How large a sum did you have in mind?”

Macrinus tilted his head thoughtfully, the jewels around his neck catching the light. “A thousand gold aureus?”

Thraex’s lips curled into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Two,” he countered smoothly.

Macrinus glanced at the courtesan draped over his arm, as if seeking her approval. The woman gave a slight nod, and Macrinus shrugged, turning back to Thraex. “Denarius,” he said simply, the single word carrying enough weight to silence Thraex for a fleeting moment.

Macrinus walked away with an easy swagger, leaving Thraex standing alone with his forced smile slipping into a scowl. The flash of irritation on his face, so quickly concealed, didn’t escape your notice.  

You couldn’t suppress a small smirk of your own as you turned your attention elsewhere. Rome’s elite might dress themselves in finery and smiles, but it was clear that every word exchanged tonight was a thread in the intricate tapestry of power. Threads you were determined to unravel.  

The air in the grand hall shifted, thick with anticipation as the crowd clustered toward the edges of the room. The glint of opulence—golden goblets, silk-draped tables, and jewels adorning the guests—clashed against the dark reality of what was about to unfold. Your eyes lingered briefly on a figure across the way: a man, bound in chains, sitting quietly. There was no fear in his expression, only a smoldering anger that made you uneasy.  

The sound of clapping drew your attention back to the center of the room. Senator Thraex, ever the showman, raised his voice above the murmur of the crowd. “Stand back! Stand back!” he called, his tone a mix of authority and delight.  

You stepped aside, blending into the edges of the gathering, as the spectators parted to form a circle. The twin emperors, Caracalla and Geta, lounged decadently on their perch, surrounded by concubines who laughed and whispered among themselves. Their indifference to the gathering's undertones was maddening.  

Thraex turned toward them with an exaggerated bow. “My emperors,” he began with a grin before addressing the audience. “Lords, ladies, senators—tonight, for your entertainment... the art of combat!”  

Excited gasps rippled through the room, the revelers’ reactions equal parts anticipation and bloodlust. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Thraex gestured dramatically toward the two men brought forward—one was the same figure you’d seen earlier, still brooding but now standing tall.  

“And now,” Thraex continued, “the barbarian, versus from my own stable, the mighty Vijay!”  

The crowd erupted into applause as Vijay, a towering figure in a yellow tunic, was escorted forward. His opponent, the gladiator from across the room, now squared his shoulders and met Vijay’s gaze.  

“It is your gladiator?” Emperor Geta asked, his tone laced with mild amusement, as he glanced at Macrinus.  

Macrinus inclined his head respectfully. “It is, your Majesty.”  

Chains were removed from both men, their freedom feeling more like a death sentence. Thraex began to set the terms. “Three rounds, hand-to-hand—”  

But Emperor Caracalla’s voice cut through. “Swords!” he barked, his grin wicked.  

The room fell silent.  

“We want swords. A fight to the death!” Caracalla continued, his voice rising with glee. “No quarter to be offered, or given!”  

Thraex hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment, but the guards stepped forward, placing swords into the gladiators’ hands. You felt your stomach twist as the two men began circling one another.  

The gladiator of Macrinus spoke first, his voice calm but edged with pleading. “Brother, come now. Let us not kill each other for their amusement.”  

Vijay’s only response was a roar as he lunged, his sword slicing through the air. The next moments were chaos. Blades clanged as they met, sparks flying from each blow. The room seemed to shrink around the violence as tables splintered and decorations toppled.  

The climax came when Vijay’s sword slipped from his grasp in the scuffle. The other gladiator seized the opportunity, driving his blade into Vijay’s chest. A sharp gasp escaped you as the larger man crumpled to the marble floor, his blood pooling beneath him.  

The victor tossed his sword to the ground with a clatter, breathing heavily, his face and tunic spattered with blood. Around you, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers, their delight in stark contrast to your quiet horror.  

“Remarkable!” Emperor Geta exclaimed, standing as he clapped his hands. He approached Macrinus with an approving nod. “Congratulations.”  

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Macrinus replied smoothly.  

Geta then turned to the gladiator, studying him with newfound interest. “From where do you hail?”  

The man said nothing, his jaw set, his silence defiant.  

The tension in the room grew thick. Even you found yourself leaning forward, curiosity mingling with unease.  

“Speak,” Geta commanded sharply. When no answer came, his impatience boiled over. “I said speak!”  

Macrinus stepped in quickly, bowing his head. “Your Majesty, he is from the colonies. His native tongue is all he understands.”  

The gladiator finally raised his head, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “The gates of hell are open night and day; smooth the descent, and easy is the way: but to come back from hell, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.”  

The poetry stunned you, the eloquence jarring against the brutal spectacle that had just unfolded. Around you, the room fell silent for a beat before Caracalla broke into a laugh.  

“Poetry!” the Caracalla declared, grinning as he turned to Macrinus. “Very clever, Macrinus. Very clever indeed.”  

Macrinus bowed slightly. “To amuse you is my only wish, your Majesty.”  

“We are amused,” Geta said, though his gaze remained fixed on the gladiator. His voice rose as he addressed the room. “And we all look forward to seeing your poet… perform in the arena.”  

“As do I your majesty's.” Macrinus gestured to his guard. “Viggo,” he said softly, and the guard stepped forward to escort the gladiator out of the room.  

As the crowd began to disperse, murmurs of excitement rippling through the air, you remained rooted in place. Your eyes followed the blood trail left by Vijay’s body as it was dragged away. The victor—dripping in another man’s blood, yet unbowed—disappeared through the doors, his haunting words lingering in your mind like a ghost.

LUCILLA'S VILLA — LATE AFTERNOON

The villa of Domitia Lucilla stood as a serene contrast to the chaos of Rome—a sprawling sanctuary of pale stone walls and gardens heavy with the scent of roses and citrus. The late afternoon sun stretched shadows across the courtyard as you entered, the weariness from Senator Thraex’s debauched gathering weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Lucilla awaited you, standing poised near a column. Her cream stola shifted with the breeze, but her sharp gaze was unwavering, as if she had been expecting this moment.  

“You’ve returned,” she said, warmth in her voice tempered by the gravity of her expression.  

“I have, my lady—”  

She waved off the formalities with a flick of her wrist. “Enough with that. How many times must I tell you?”  

“Habit,” you replied with a faint smile, though it lacked its usual brightness.  

Her lips twitched with amusement, but concern quickly took its place. “And how was Senator Thraex’s gathering? As intolerable as I feared?”  

You sighed, the grotesque excess of the night flashing briefly in your mind. “More wine than wit. And blood, of course. Always blood.”  

Lucilla’s mouth tightened, her brow furrowing just enough to betray her displeasure. She stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on your shoulder. “Rome devours itself with spectacle. It leaves nothing but emptiness behind,” she murmured.  

You nodded but didn’t speak. The heaviness of her words settled heavily on you because they were true.  

“And Thraex himself?” she pressed, tilting her head.  

You hesitated. “He made his usual jabs about my… unmarried state. Feigned sympathy for my family. And spent an inordinate amount of time with Macrinus, the arms dealer. It seemed more calculated than casual.”  

Lucilla’s eyes narrowed slightly, her mind already turning. “Macrinus does not waste his time on frivolities. If Thraex is courting him, there’s more at play.”  

“Something to do with the games tomorrow, perhaps?” you suggested. “He seemed eager for them.”  

Lucilla’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s possible. His ambitions are endless, and I fear his alliances will be the ruin of many.”  

“Rome always finds a way to drag us into its mire,” you muttered bitterly.  

Her hand on your shoulder tightened briefly, reassuring. “Then we tread carefully. But not tonight. Tonight, we focus on what lies ahead. The senators will convene soon, and General Acacius is to join us.”  

You huffed a soft laugh, though it carried a trace of exasperation. “A grand gathering in his honor, and he doesn’t bother to attend the festivities.”  

Lucilla arched a brow, her expression turning sly. “Were you hoping he would?”  

Heat rushed to your face, and you fumbled for a response. “I—no, of course not. I just thought it odd.”  

“Mm.” Her tone was noncommittal, but her knowing smile made you glance away.  

Before you could dwell on your embarrassment, Lucilla turned down another garden path, leaving you to follow. It was there, amid the soft hum of cicadas and the golden haze of the late afternoon, that you saw him.  

Marcus Acacius sat beneath a pergola, his broad shoulders bent slightly over a parchment, a quill poised in his hand. A goblet of wine sat forgotten beside him, the scene unexpectedly tranquil for a man of his reputation.  

Lucilla glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. “It seems you’ll get your wish after all.”  

Your stomach twisted at her words, but before you could form a protest, she disappeared around the corner. Left to your own devices, you took a steadying breath and approached. The crunch of gravel underfoot drew his attention, and he looked up, his dark eyes softening as they met yours.  

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t return,” he said, his voice low and warm, though a flicker of relief betrayed him.  

You tilted your head, folding your arms as you came closer. “And I was beginning to think you’d forgotten the party was meant for you.”  

Marcus chuckled, setting down his quill. “Crowded rooms filled with drunken senators and empty promises hold little appeal. I prefer the quiet.” He gestured to the bench across from him. “Join me?”  

For a moment, you hesitated, the unspoken tension between you filling the air. But then you sat, folding your hands neatly in your lap.  

“The games tomorrow will be particularly… extravagant,” you said, glancing at the parchment. “I’m to serve as a healer for the event.”  

His brow furrowed. “You’ll be in the arena?”  

“Not in it,” you replied quickly. “But close enough.”  

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “It’s barbaric. They celebrate death, and you’re left to mend what’s left behind.”  

“It’s Rome,” you said with a shrug, though the bitterness in your voice was unmistakable.  

“Does it not anger you?” His voice was steady but insistent, his gaze searching yours.  

You hesitated before answering. “Every day,” you admitted quietly. “But anger doesn’t heal. It doesn’t save lives.”  

His hand moved, resting near yours on the table—not touching, but close enough that the space between felt charged. “You do more than heal,” he said after a moment. “You remind us of what’s worth saving.”  

The sincerity in his words made your breath hitch. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.  

“I only do what I can,” you said finally.  

“And it’s enough,” he replied, his voice firm.  

Silence settled between you, but it was not empty. It was heavy with questions left unasked, with the unshakable feeling that you knew him from somewhere beyond this life.  

“You’re different,” he said suddenly.  

You raised an eyebrow, half-amused. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”  

He smiled faintly. “A truth.”  

You studied him, the edges of recognition tugging at your mind. “Have we met before?”  

His hand stilled, his expression unreadable. “Why do you ask?”  

“It’s the way you look at me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like you know something I don’t.”  

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, softly, “Perhaps I’m just trying to understand you.”

“And do you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.  

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze lingered on yours, as if he were searching for something—something hidden behind the words you didn’t say. His jaw tightened, and then relaxed, his hesitation drawing out the silence until it felt like the whole garden held its breath.  

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting an amber glow across the courtyard. The scent of citrus blossoms drifted through the air, mingling with the faint tang of oil from the bronze lamps. You and Marcus sat across from each other, the heavy quiet between you punctuated by the distant hum of the city below.  

“I think,” he said finally, his voice low and measured, “that you’re not as much of a mystery as you’d like to believe.”

You said nothing, the truth of his words settling over you. He wasn’t the first to try to understand you, but he was the first whose attempt didn’t feel like an invasion. Still, you kept your silence, hoping it would shield whatever he thought he saw.  

Marcus leaned back slightly, his gaze unwavering, though his tone softened. “You wear your defiance like armor. It suits you, but…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Even armor cracks under enough weight.”

Your chest tightened. There was no judgment in his voice, just quiet understanding, and that somehow made it worse. You turned your eyes to the horizon, watching as the light bled into dusk.  

“And you?” you asked at last, your voice quiet, almost tentative. “What cracks your armor?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his jaw tightening as he looked away. For a long moment, you thought he might deflect or let the question fall unanswered. But then he sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly, the facade of the unshakable general slipping.  

“The things I’ve done,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “The wars. The lives I’ve taken. I tell myself it was duty. For Rome. For honor. But when I close my eyes…” His hand curled into a fist on the table, the scarred knuckles white with tension. “I see their faces. The ones I killed. The ones I couldn’t save. Sometimes, I think that’s all there is left of me. Blood and ghosts.”

His words hung in the air, raw and unguarded. You felt the sharp sting of his pain as if it were your own, and it stirred something deep within you—a desire not to fix him, but to let him be broken without shame.  

“There’s more to you than that,” you said softly, surprising even yourself with the conviction in your voice. “Let the brokenness be felt, Marcus, until you reach the other side. There is goodness in the heart of every broken man who comes right up to the edge of losing everything he has.”  

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those fierce, commanding eyes—betrayed a flicker of something fragile. “And if the edge is all that’s left?”  

You shook your head. “Then you find your way back. One step, one breath, one choice at a time. You’ve already come this far.”  

A faint, wry smile tugged at his lips. “You sound certain.”  

“I am,” you said simply. “Because I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen men lose everything and still find the strength to rebuild. You’ve endured so much, Marcus. And yet, here you are.”  

His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the air between you felt impossibly heavy, as though the weight of both your pasts had settled there. But then, something shifted—just a fraction—and the tension eased.  

“Tell me,” he said quietly, leaning forward. “How does someone like you—someone who speaks of goodness and second chances—end up in a place like this?”  

You let out a soft laugh, though it held no humor. “A long story,” you said, your tone laced with irony.  

He smiled faintly. “I’ve got time.”  

The simplicity of his statement caught you off guard. You studied him for a moment, searching for any trace of mockery, but found none. He was patient, steady, like a man who had weathered every storm and learned to endure the waiting.  

You hesitated, then began to speak—not all at once, but in fragments. You told him of the choices that had brought you here, the moments of defiance and loss that had shaped you. He listened without interrupting, his focus unbroken, as though each word mattered.  

When the story faltered and the silence crept back in, Marcus spoke again, his voice gentle. “You’ve carried much on your shoulders.”  

You shrugged, your gaze fixed on the table. “Haven’t we all?”  

He nodded, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Perhaps. But not everyone carries it as well as you.”  

The compliment startled you, and you looked up to find him watching you with something like admiration. It wasn’t romantic, not yet—but it was real, and it unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite name.  

“You don’t know me well enough to say that,” you said, though your voice lacked its usual bite.  

“Not yet,” he agreed. “But I’d like to.”  

Something in his tone—a quiet sincerity, unadorned by pretense—made you pause. You realized, with a small jolt, that you wanted to know him, too. Not just the general, but the man beneath the armor.  

“Maybe,” you said finally, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “If you’re patient.”  

His smile widened, just a little, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I’ve learned to be patient,” he said. “For the right things.”  

And as the night deepened and the stars began to dot the sky, you found yourself wondering if, perhaps, this was one of them.

The room was dark, the faint glow of torchlight from the grilled window casting long, flickering shadows on the walls. Lucilla stood beside you, her sharp eyes trained on the guards below as they exchanged shifts. She watched silently, her body tense but still, until the last of them disappeared around the corner.  

With a soft sigh, she turned back into the room and extinguished the candles one by one. The light died away, replaced by the cover of darkness. Outside, a guard’s voice called up, noting that she must be retiring for the evening.  

You remained quiet, holding the lamp as Lucilla adjusted her robes and pulled up the hood, the fabric obscuring her features. The air felt heavier now, laden with unspoken tension. She glanced at you, her gaze sharp even in the dim light.  

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice a low murmur.  

You nodded and pulled your own hood over your head. The warmth of the lamp in your hand was a small comfort against the chill of the night.  

Lucilla stepped closer, her hands gripping your forearm briefly as she said your name. “You must know,” she said, her voice quiet but firm, “if you do this with us, there is a possibility that we may be discovered. And the penalties—”  

“I’m aware,” you interrupted gently, meeting her gaze. There was no hesitation in your voice.  

She studied you for a moment longer, then nodded, a faint flicker of respect passing over her features. Without another word, she turned toward a small shrine tucked into the corner of the room.  

Kneeling, she rolled back a slab of marble with deliberate care, revealing a narrow passage that led downward. The air that seeped out was cool and damp, smelling faintly of earth and stone.  

Lucilla motioned for you to follow, and you descended after her, the spiral staircase winding tightly into the depths. Your lamp cast shifting shadows on the walls, and the faint echoes of your footsteps seemed louder than they should have been.  

The tunnel at the bottom was carved with care, though the stone showed its age. Lucilla moved through it with practiced ease, her robes brushing against the walls as the passage widened and opened into a massive underground catacomb.  

You stopped short, your breath catching at the sight. The vaulted ceilings arched high above you, their grandeur almost otherworldly. This place was built for eternity, every detail a testament to early Roman splendor. Statues of gods and long-dead ancestors stood sentinel, their marble faces solemn in the lamplight.  

Lucilla’s steps slowed as she approached a series of crypts. Each one was marked with the bust of a family member, their likenesses carved into the stone. She stopped before the bust of Marcus Aurelius, her father, and laid a hand on its smooth surface.  

“Father,” she whispered, her voice tinged with both reverence and sorrow, “protect us and guide us.” Her fingers lingered for a moment before she turned away, her expression unreadable.  

You wanted to say something, to break the silence, but the words escaped you. There was a sacredness here that felt unshakable, a weight you couldn’t quite explain.  

ANTECHAMBER — MINUTES LATER  

The air in the antechamber felt thick, like the weight of centuries pressed down upon you all. Torches lined the stone walls, their flickering light casting wavering shadows on faces lined with tension and purpose. The damp chill of the underground space only added to the solemnity of the moment.  

Lucilla moved forward with practiced grace, her head held high despite the gravity of the meeting. The first man stepped into the torchlight, his wiry frame and sharp features softened only by the faint trace of a smile.  

“Gracchus,” Lucilla said warmly, extending her hands. “Old friend.”  

Gracchus clasped her hands briefly, his grip conveying both respect and concern. “My lady. I wish we were meeting in better times.”  

Lucilla’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The sun shone once—it will shine again.”  

Gracchus raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking into a sardonic smirk. “And what in heaven’s name does that mean?”  

Before Lucilla could answer, a low, resonant voice emerged from the shadows. “It means hope, Gracchus.”  

You started slightly, your heart skipping as a figure stepped forward. Marcus Acacius. The flickering light caught the edges of his armor, making it gleam like liquid fire. His presence filled the room effortlessly, his broad frame and steady gaze commanding attention.  

Gracchus let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh yes. He is shiny.”  

Marcus didn’t react to the jest, but his eyes flicked between Lucilla and Gracchus before settling briefly on you. His gaze held for a beat too long, making your pulse quicken.  

“Did I startle you?” he asked, his tone smooth but edged with faint amusement.  

You straightened, tightening your grip on the lamp you carried. “Not at all,” you said, though your voice betrayed you.  

The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips, but he turned his attention back to Gracchus, his expression growing serious. “We want to take back the city. To restore Rome to what it should be.”  

Gracchus’s expression darkened, doubt creeping into his voice. “An exciting venture. When?”  

“On the final day of the games,” Marcus replied firmly.  

Gracchus raised a skeptical brow. “How?”  

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the tension clear as he measured his words. “My army waits for my command at Ostia. Five thousand soldiers loyal to me will enter Rome. I intend to arrest our emperors in front of the crowds at the Colosseum for their crimes against the Senate and the people.”  

A long, heavy silence followed. Gracchus exchanged a wary glance with Thraex, who stood silently in the background. The two senators appeared burdened with years of cynicism, the spark of belief long extinguished.  

Lucilla broke the quiet, her voice sharp and resolute. “We cannot continue to see Rome damaged, sliding further into corruption and decay.”  

Thraex snorted softly, folding his arms. “Does he want to be Emperor?”  

Marcus’s gaze sharpened as he shook his head. “I am a soldier, not a politician. Rome will be yours to administer and—”  

Gracchus interrupted him, his tone cutting. “Your father spoke of returning power to the Senate. But that was a generation ago. Much has changed. The people haven’t seen hope for years, and—”  

This time, Marcus’s voice rose slightly, his frustration bleeding through. “Rome is not yet ready to be a republic, but with time—and guidance—a vote by the people, for the people, would mean—”  

Lucilla placed a steady hand on Marcus’s arm, quieting him. She turned to Gracchus, her voice calmer but no less determined. “Rome can live again. Do we have your support, Gracchus?”  

Gracchus hesitated, his gaze shifting to you, then back to Marcus. Finally, he nodded slowly, his voice soft. “Lucilla, you are the daughter of Marcus Aurelius. He had my loyalty, and so do you.”  

Lucilla allowed herself a small smile. “A political answer, but good enough. Senator Thraex?”  

Thraex hesitated, his eyes flickering to you. He seemed to brace himself before speaking. “Politics follows power, my lady. Take back what is rightfully yours, and the Senate will support you.”  

The room seemed to exhale as the senators gave their tentative agreement, but Gracchus’s gaze lingered on you. His voice softened. “I vowed to your parents I would take care of you. To give you a life beyond this... chaos.”  

Your grip on the lamp tightened as you met his gaze, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your chest. “There is no point in life if the future of Rome is nothing but an abuse of power and position.”  

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Marcus’s expression shift. His gaze rested on you, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he were seeing you in a new light.  

The torches flickered, their flames casting light on faces filled with determination and shadows that hinted at the dangerous road ahead. You glanced at Marcus once more, and his eyes caught yours, a faint, unspoken understanding passing between you.  

THE COLOSSEUM — DAY

The air around the Colosseum is alive with a chaotic energy that hums through the sprawling crowd. The great amphitheater towers above, its shadow sprawling across the dusty streets. Vendors shout over one another, selling honeyed dates, roasted nuts, and cheap wine. Children dart between the throngs, their quick fingers snatching at coin purses while wide-eyed newcomers marvel at the spectacle before them.  

As you approach the towering Capitoline Arch, your eyes lift to the imposing statue of General Marcus Acacius atop a marble plinth. The sunlight gleams off the bronze plaque beneath, bearing the inscription: ACACIUS, VICTOR AFRICAE.  

You pause, a faint sigh escaping your lips as you take it in. The statue is majestic, carved with precision to capture his strength and valor, but there’s something about its stillness, its perfection, that feels wrong. The man you’ve come to know is far more complicated than the warrior immortalized in marble.  

Pulling your hood closer to shield yourself from prying eyes, you make your way toward the entrance of the Colosseum.  

Outside the massive arena, the crowd is dense, funneling into the arched entrances like water forced through narrow channels. The scent of sweat, baked bread, and dust clings to the air.  

A wagon lumbers past, its wheels creaking as it pulls into the rear gates of the Colosseum. The iron gates groan shut behind it with a finality that makes you shiver.  

Your eyes catch on one of the gladiators stepping down from the wagon. He is broad-shouldered, with a grim expression and scars that tell stories of survival. Recognition flickers in your mind—he was at Senator Thraex’s gathering, one of Macrinus’ men.  

For a moment, his gaze meets yours, sharp and searching. You quickly turn away, the weight of his stare lingering like a brand on your skin.  

COLOSSEUM UNDERCROFT — DAY  

The undercroft is a world unto itself, hidden beneath the grandeur of the arena above. The air here is damp and stale, filled with the mingled scents of blood, sweat, and the earthy musk of the animals kept for the games. Torches line the stone walls, their flames barely cutting through the heavy gloom.  

You step carefully, the hem of your robe brushing against the uneven stones beneath your feet. Around you, the sounds of preparation echo—metallic clangs of swords being sharpened, the low murmur of prayers whispered by gladiators, and the distant roar of the crowd above, a constant reminder of what waits beyond.  

A sudden shout breaks through the noise, and you flinch instinctively, your hand tightening around the lamp you carry.  

“Keep moving!” A guard barks, shoving a gladiator forward.  

You press yourself against the wall to let them pass, your eyes following the line of chained men as they march toward their fate. The air feels heavier here, thick with despair and the metallic tang of blood that never quite fades from the stone.  

The main chamber opens ahead, a cavernous space carved from the bedrock, with a stone memorial spanning two centuries etched into one of the walls. The names carved there seem endless, a testament to the lives given—or taken—beneath this roof.  

You step into the room, your eyes searching for Ravi, the healer who has been your closest ally in this grim underworld. He is leaning over a battered table, his thick canvas coat bristling with the tools of his trade—scalpels, needles, and small bottles of tinctures.  

Ravi glances up as you approach, his dark eyes meeting yours. He nods, his expression weary but kind. “You’re late,” he says, his tone more teasing than reproachful.  

“I was delayed,” you reply, setting the lamp down on the edge of the table.  

Ravi straightens, his hands covered in the telltale stains of his work. “Delayed by a statue, no doubt,” he says with a smirk, nodding toward the hallway you came from.  

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Not just the statue. The entire crowd outside could rival an army.”  

He chuckles softly, but his humor fades as his gaze shifts to the tools laid out before him. “It’s a mad world out there. And in here. They’ll call it glory, but we know better, don’t we?”  

You nod, your fingers brushing against one of the bottles of tincture on the table. “How many today?”  

“Too many,” Ravi replies grimly. “It always is. But if we don’t patch them up, they’ll be thrown back into the arena like lambs to the slaughter.”  

You glance toward the memorial wall, the endless names a stark reminder of what happens when healing is no longer enough. “And yet they cheer,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him.  

Ravi follows your gaze, his expression hardening. “They cheer because they’re too far away to hear the screams. From up there, it’s just a show.”  

A heavy silence falls between you, the weight of his words settling in the space like a tangible presence.  

Finally, Ravi breaks it, his voice quieter now. “You could have been anywhere. A villa in the hills, a proper clinic, somewhere far from all of this. Why here?”  

You meet his gaze, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “Because someone has to be.”  

Before Ravi can respond, the distant blare of a cornu horn echoes through the chamber, its mournful call summoning the combatants to the arena.  

Ravi exhales, shaking his head. “That’s our cue.”  

You nod, grabbing the lamp and turning toward the corridor. “Let’s hope today isn’t worse than the last.”  

Ravi follows, his canvas coat swaying as he moves. “Hope’s in short supply here,” he mutters. But then, as if to lighten the mood, he adds, “But if anyone can keep these bastards alive, it’s us.”  

A faint smile pulls at your lips as the two of you head toward the chaos waiting above. The sound of the horn grows louder, blending with the roar of the crowd—a noise as relentless as the tide.

The roar of the Colosseum was muffled slightly where you and Ravi stood in the shadow of the lower arches, but the sight above was impossible to ignore. Caracalla and Geta had already taken their places in the royal seats, their expressions imperious yet lacking true command. The crowd’s response to their arrival was lukewarm, tepid applause barely rippling through the masses.  

Ravi glanced at you, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They can’t even fake enthusiasm for their own Emperors. Telling, isn’t it?”  

You nodded grimly, shifting your gaze to the arena floor where the fight’s Master of Ceremonies stood, clearly tense. He gestured sharply to the musicians, prompting them to play a fanfare in a desperate attempt to rouse the audience.  

Through the giant copper horn mounted on a stand, his voice bellowed, “Citizens of Rome! These sacred games are held to honor the victory of Rome over the barbarians of Numidia—”  

You winced at the crude remark, the words cutting through the air with their arrogance.  

“And to honor Rome's legionary commander, General Justus Acacius!”  

At the mention of Acacius, your eyes instinctively sought him out. There he was, emerging in white and gold, a gleaming figure against the harsh backdrop of the Colosseum. His presence was magnetic, commanding without effort. He moved with the same purpose he always did, though you could sense a tension in his posture, a reluctance masked by the pageantry.  

Lucilla followed close behind him, her chin lifted with practiced grace. When the Master of Ceremonies announced her name—“Lucilla, the daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius!”—the crowd erupted into thunderous applause, a stark contrast to their earlier indifference.  

Beside you, Ravi let out a low whistle. “They still adore her.”  

“They always will,” you murmured, watching as she ascended to the royal seats under the guise of honor, though you knew better. The two Centurions flanking her were not mere escorts but guards, a subtle display of control that would escape the average onlooker.  

From this distance, it seemed she embraced the accolades, her every gesture perfectly measured. But you caught the slight flicker in her expression when she glanced toward Acacius.  

“You honor us with your presence. Speak to the plebeians, Acacius,” Geta commanded, his tone laced with condescension.  

You held your breath, sensing the reluctance in Marcus’s stillness. He exchanged a look with Lucilla, brief but telling, before his gaze swept across the crowd, searching. When his eyes found yours, something in his demeanor shifted—resolve, perhaps, or a need for grounding.  

Finally, he rose, stepping to the railing as the crowd quieted, anticipation thick in the air. His voice, deep and steady, carried over the expanse with ease.  

“I am not an orator, nor a politician,” he began, the simplicity of his words a sharp contrast to the pomp surrounding him. “I am only a soldier. Real heroism is not the stuff of games.”  

A murmur rippled through the crowd, confusion and intrigue mingling as Acacius’s words sank in.  

“It reveals itself to us only in the service of life itself,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “I have seen bravery in men during war, and from women, too—bravery that does not falter in the face of fear but rises to meet it. And even, once, in this arena.”  

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing against you. Though his gaze never left the crowd, you felt as though those words were for you alone.  

“If you pray,” Marcus’s voice deepened, his tone almost pleading, “pray that the gods will deliver us bravery like that. Because Rome needs it now.”  

The silence that followed was profound, the kind that held more weight than applause. Then, slowly, the crowd erupted, their cheers cascading through the Colosseum like a wave.  

You watched him step back from the railing, his expression inscrutable as he returned to his seat. But as the applause thundered on, his eyes found yours again, and in that brief moment, you saw it—something unspoken yet unmistakable.  

Ravi nudged you gently, breaking the spell. “He’s good, I’ll give him that.”  

You nodded, your heart still pounding. “Better than they deserve,” you said softly, though your thoughts were far from the Emperors.

The tension in the Colosseum was recognized as the opening ceremony came to an end. Caracalla and Geta clapped from their royal seats, their applause mechanical and devoid of genuine enthusiasm. Below, the Master of Ceremonies stood nervously, his voice amplified by the great copper horn.  

“From the South Gate... fighters from the stable of Macrinus of Thysdrus!”  

Your gaze darted to the southern entrance, where the gladiators emerged into the blinding sunlight. You recognized one of them—Hanno of Numidia—whose name Ravi had told you earlier. The crowd greeted them with scattered boos and jeers, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the arena itself.  

Hanno walked with measured steps, his expression stoic as he led the small group to the center of the arena. His shoulders bore the weight of more than just the armor; you could see it in his eyes.  

“And from the stables of our Emperors Caracalla and Geta themselves: Glyceo the Destroyer!”  

The eastern gates creaked open, revealing a towering figure clad in ornate armor, seated atop a great white rhino. The crowd erupted in frenzied cheers, the noise reverberating through the stone walls. The rhino trotted with surprising agility, its hooves kicking up clouds of dust as it carried Glyceo with the ease of a seasoned warrior.  

From your vantage point, you saw the glint of weapons strapped to the rhino’s side—an axe, a sword, a mace, and a bola. Glyceo reached for the mace, gripping its heavy handle with a confidence born from countless victories.  

The first gladiator dared to challenge the beast, stepping forward with his sword raised. He attempted to dodge the rhino’s charge at the last moment, but the creature’s speed and precision were unmatched. The horn struck him with brutal force, sending him flying across the arena before the rhino finished him off with a savage thrust.  

Your stomach churned as the body was tossed aside like a ragdoll. The crowd’s cheers only grew louder.  

Hanno stood still, his gaze fixed on the carnage. Then, almost imperceptibly, he crouched and scooped a handful of sand from the arena floor, letting it sift through his fingers. The gesture was hauntingly familiar—a ritual Maximus had performed before every fight.  

Beside you, Ravi murmured, “Do you see that? He remembers.”  

You glanced at Lucilla in the royal box, noting the flicker of something in her expression—recognition, perhaps, or sorrow. But she quickly masked it, her face hardening as she turned back to the arena.  

The rhino charged again, this time with Glyceo’s mace raised high. Hanno sidestepped at the last possible moment, but the rhino’s horn clipped him, sending him sprawling. Dust clouded the air as the beast wheeled around, disoriented by the sunlight.  

Hanno was quick to act. He flung the remaining sand into the air, creating a bright, blinding curtain that obscured his movements. The rhino charged again, unable to see clearly, and slammed full force into the arena wall. Glyceo was thrown like a ragdoll, his body hitting the stone with a sickening thud.  

The rhino staggered, its massive frame reeling as it struggled to regain its footing. Hanno retrieved his sword and advanced on Glyceo, who was already scrambling to his feet. Their blades met in a clash of steel, sparks flying as Glyceo’s superior strength began to overwhelm Hanno.  

You leaned forward, gripping the stone railing as Glyceo delivered a brutal series of blows, forcing Hanno to his knees. The crowd chanted, their bloodlust palpable.  

Lucilla gasped, turning away, her hand trembling as it gripped the edge of her seat. Even Macrinus, who had been watching with a calculating gaze, shook his head slightly.  

Glyceo raised his short sword, poised to deliver the final blow. He paused, turning to the royal box for approval.  

“Shall we spare his life, brother?” Geta asked, his tone mockingly casual.  

Caracalla shrugged, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “I wouldn’t mind seeing some blood.”  

Geta ignored him, his attention shifting to Lucilla. “Lucilla, shall we show mercy?”  

Lucilla hesitated, her voice trembling. “Mercy.” The word was barely audible, choked with guilt and something deeper.  

Geta stood, raising his fist. The crowd fell silent, holding their breath as he slowly extended his thumb upward, granting Hanno his life. The Colosseum erupted in cheers, but the celebration was short-lived.  

“No,” Hanno said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.  

The crowd stilled, murmurs of confusion rippling through the stands.  

“No mercy,” he repeated, his tone resolute.  

Geta’s face twisted in disbelief. “Gladiator, we have spared your life. No one refuses—”  

“I will not accept mercy,” Hanno interrupted, rising to his feet despite the blood dripping from his wounds. He turned to the royal box, his gaze unwavering. “I would sooner face your blade than accept Roman mercy.”  

The crowd erupted in chaos—laughter, jeers, and shouts of encouragement mingling in a cacophony of sound.  

“Fight on, then, fool, and die,” Geta spat, his face reddening with embarrassment.  

Glyceo lunged, his mace swinging in a wide arc. Hanno ducked, his movements fueled by desperation and fury. With a final burst of strength, he seized his fallen short sword and drove it into Glyceo’s abdomen. The mighty gladiator staggered, his expression one of shock before he collapsed, lifeless, into the sand.  

The crowd roared its approval, chanting Hanno’s name as he stood victorious. From the royal box, Macrinus smiled, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. You couldn’t help but watch Hanno with a mixture of awe and apprehension, your heart pounding as the weight of the moment settled over the arena.  

COLOSSEUM HOSPITAL ROOM — NIGHT

The dim light of flickering oil lamps cast wavering shadows on the rough stone walls of the makeshift infirmary. The smell of blood, sweat, and burnt herbs clung to the air like a heavy shroud. Ravi moved methodically among the injured, tending to other gladiators with a calm, steady hand.

You were left alone with Hanno. He sat on a wooden stool, his posture tense despite the exhaustion etched into his features. A deep, jagged wound marred his upper arm, the torn flesh angry and raw. Mosquitoes buzzed around him, drawn to the scent of blood and sweat.

You crouched beside him, your hands deftly inspecting the wound. “This needs to be cleaned and stitched up,” you murmured, glancing up at him briefly. His eyes met yours, dark and unreadable.

He broke the silence. “What’s your name?”

You paused, meeting his gaze again as you answered, giving your name. You nodded toward the other side of the room. “That man over there is Ravi. We’re both doctors—or as close to it as you’ll get here. More men die of infected wounds than in the arena itself.”

Hanno tilted his head slightly, watching you as you prepared the tools of your trade. “This is going to hurt,” you added, your tone both matter-of-fact and soft.

You handed him a small pipe, its carved edges worn smooth from use.

“What’s this?” he asked, examining it with mild suspicion.

“Devil’s breath and opium,” you explained. “For the pain. Breathe it in.”

Hanno hesitated for only a moment before placing the pipe between his lips. He inhaled deeply, his expression neutral as the sharp, bitter taste hit his tongue. Slowly, his eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing steadied.

“The effects are different for us all,” you said gently, noting the way his features softened, the tension in his shoulders easing.

When his eyes opened again, they were hazy, unfocused. “Your voice…” he muttered, blinking at you as if trying to place something familiar.

“What about it?” you asked with a small smile, distracting him as you began cleaning the wound.

“It’s… nice,” he replied, his words slow and slightly slurred. “Kind.”

You gave a soft chuckle, focusing on the task at hand. “Don’t get used to it. This part isn’t going to feel so kind.”

He took another draw of the pipe just as you began stitching the torn flesh with catgut. The needle pierced his skin, and he hissed through clenched teeth, coughing as a puff of opium-laden smoke escaped his lips and drifted into the air between you.

“Where’d you learn your trade?” he asked, his voice rough but steady.

You kept your focus on the stitches, your hands moving with practiced precision. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve got a light hand,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You glanced up briefly, the corners of your lips quirking. “You don’t strike me as someone who hands out compliments easily.”

The faint flicker of the oil lamp threw warm shadows across the stone walls of the infirmary. The low hum of muffled groans and whispered prayers filled the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood and herbs. His dark eyes, hazy from the drug, remained fixed on you as you worked.  

“I don’t,” he murmured, his voice soft and slow. “But I’ve had enough wounds stitched up to know the difference between butchery and care.”  

The corners of your lips quirked upward, and a soft chuckle escaped you. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  

“It is,” he said, his tone unusually earnest.  

Your laugh echoed softly in the quiet room, and his lips curved in response. Hanno was inebriated now—high on the devil’s breath and opium. He looked at you, his gaze almost childlike in its wonder, as if the haze had stripped away some of the weight he carried.  

“What we do in life echoes in eternity,” you said suddenly, your voice a mix of reverence and melancholy.  

The words hung in the air, timeless and heavy. You paused, your fingers stilling over the bandage.  

Hanno blinked, as if chasing a memory. “I feel I know those words…”  

You smiled faintly, your eyes meeting his. “I can’t take credit for them. They’re written on a tomb here, over the bones of a gladiator.”  

He let the words sink in, his gaze distant but thoughtful. You returned to your work, your hands moving with practiced precision as you tied off the final stitch and smoothed the bandage over his wound.  

“There,” you said, leaning back to admire your handiwork. “I think that should hold.”  

Hanno’s eyes drifted to his arm. He reached out, almost absently, and ran his fingers across the crude stitches. His touch was featherlight, as if testing the reality of it.  

You stood, gathering your tools and reaching for the pipe still clutched in his hand. But before you could take it, he brought it to his lips again, inhaling deeply. The motion was slow and deliberate, his dark eyes fixed on you through the curling smoke.  

You paused, watching him, but said nothing. After a moment, you gave a small nod and turned back to pack away the rest of your supplies.  

“Why did you let me take another hit?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer now, as if the opium was tugging him toward vulnerability.  

You glanced over your shoulder, your expression unreadable. “Because sometimes, we need the pain to go quiet for a while.”  

Hanno held your gaze for a long moment, his lips curving into a faint, lopsided smile. “You understand more than most,” he said quietly.  

You didn’t respond, but the weight of his words lingered. As you turned back to your work, his voice broke the silence again, softer this time.  

He said your name a tender echo in the quiet room. “Do you believe it?”  

“Believe what?” you asked, not turning around.  

“That what we do in life echoes in eternity.”  

You stilled, your hands tightening slightly around your tools. Finally, you turned to face him, your expression thoughtful. “I think… the choices we make, the lives we touch—they ripple outward. Whether it’s eternity or just a fleeting moment, I think it matters.”  

Hanno’s gaze didn’t waver, even through the haze of the drug. “You matter,” he said, his voice low but steady.  

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you could only stare at him. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t teasing. He meant it.  

Your throat tightened, but you forced a small smile. “Rest now, Hanno. You’ll need your strength.”  

He didn’t protest, but his eyes lingered on you as you turned away, your heart inexplicably heavier and lighter all at once.

LUCILLA’S VILLA – EVENING  

The villa shimmered under the moonlight, its alabaster walls soaking in the silver glow. Marble columns cast long shadows across the flagstones, and the air hummed with the gentle chorus of cicadas. Somewhere in the gardens, the delicate aroma of night-blooming jasmine mingled with the faint tang of the sea breeze.  

You stood at the edge of the terrace, a delicate glass of spiced wine cradled between your fingers. The cool air kissed your skin, but it couldn’t chase away the heat simmering beneath—an ache born of exhaustion, frustration, and something you dared not name. The day had unraveled like a tragedy, the gods watching with cruel amusement as you struggled to hold it together.  

Behind you, the sound of soft footfalls broke the stillness.  

“You stand there as though the weight of Rome rests on your shoulders,” a voice drawled, smooth and familiar.  

You turned, finding Lucilla leaning against the stone archway, her golden hair catching the light of the lanterns flickering nearby. She regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and knowing—Lucilla had a way of reading people like scrolls, unrolling their secrets with unnerving ease.  

“Does it not?” you replied, attempting a wry smile, though it faltered before it could fully form.  

Lucilla stepped closer, her movements fluid, regal. “Rome’s weight has crushed stronger people than us,” she said softly, joining you at the balustrade. “The key is learning when to carry it—and when to set it down.”  

You scoffed, swirling the wine in your glass. “And how often do you set it down?”  

Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Far less than I should.” She glanced at you from the corner of her eye. “But I’m not the one standing out here, staring at the stars as though they hold the answers.”  

The faint humor in her tone was a lifeline, grounding you. “If the stars do have answers, they’re not sharing them with me,” you muttered, shaking your head.  

Lucilla’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand lightly on your arm. “The answers aren’t in the stars,” she said. “They’re in here.” She tapped lightly against your chest, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve already carried so much. Don’t forget you’re allowed to put it down—just for a while.”  

Her words settled over you like a balm, and for a moment, the tension in your chest eased. You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of distant laughter interrupted, drawing both your gazes toward the villa’s golden glow.  

Lucilla sighed, stepping back. “The night calls,” she said, her tone laced with resignation. “Goodnight.”  

“Goodnight, Lucilla,” you replied, watching as she disappeared into the shadows of the villa, her presence leaving an unspoken promise of strength in its wake.  

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing off the night’s hum. You exhaled, leaning against the wood, letting the day’s exhaustion seep into your bones. But the solace was short-lived.  

“Finally,” a low, gravelly voice murmured from the shadows.  

You startled, your hand flying to your chest. “Marcus!” you hissed, your heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”  

He stepped forward, his broad frame illuminated by the flickering lantern light. His tunic was slightly disheveled, and his dark curls fell across his brow, softening the hard planes of his face. Yet his eyes—those piercing eyes—held a fire that made it impossible to look away.  

“I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “Not tonight.”  

You crossed your arms, more to steady yourself than to rebuff him. “And you thought sneaking into my quarters was the solution?”  

Marcus’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been on my mind all evening,” he said simply, the weight of his confession hanging between you. “Do you know how maddening it is? Seeing you, hearing you, but never being close enough?”  

Your breath caught, and you shook your head, trying to keep your composure. “Marcus, this—whatever this is—it's dangerous. You know that.”  

“Danger is nothing new to me,” he said, stepping closer. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself rooted in place as he closed the distance between you.  

“Marcus…” you began, but your voice faltered as his fingers brushed against yours, tentative and fleeting.  

“Tell me to leave,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I will. But if you don’t—”  

The unspoken promise in his words sent a shiver racing down your spine. You opened your mouth to protest, but instead, you found yourself tilting your face toward his touch as his hand cupped your cheek.  

“I’ve seen you fight for others, care for them,” he said softly, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw. “Let me fight for you. Let me care for you.”  

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, unbidden and unwelcome. “You don’t understand what you’re asking,” you said, your voice trembling.  

“I do,” he countered, his forehead nearly touching yours. “And I’m asking anyway.”  

His breath was warm against your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance, your mouth meeting his in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and surrender.  

The world fell away in that moment, the chaos and the danger replaced by the warmth of his embrace. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that left you breathless.  

You pulled back, your chest heaving, your hands clutching the fabric of his tunic. “This doesn’t make the world any less dangerous,” you said, your voice barely audible.  

“No,” he agreed, his gaze locked on yours. “But I’d burn the world to ash just to feel the heat of you.”  

His words sent a shiver through you, a dangerous mix of devotion and desire. And as he kissed you again, softer this time, you realized that perhaps the fire he promised wasn’t something to fear—but something you’d already been consumed by.  

[margeoww]

Hiii, could you maybe write a Toto Wolff fic, where he’s super busy with work and stuff and forgets their anniversary or the reader’s birthday and she is like so close to leaving him, but he like can’t live without her and promises to be better?? Like very angstyyyy but with a happy ending. <333

The Time We Almost Lost

back to my main masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x fem!reader

summary: when Toto Wolff forgets one of the most important days in your relationship, his world begins to crumble as you decide you can’t keep being an afterthought.

warnings: Angst with happy ending!!

a/n: sorry for making this so short 💔

The silence in your shared home had become suffocating, its weight pressing down on you with every passing second. Once, this space had been alive, a sanctuary of shared laughter, quiet moments of intimacy, and conversations that stretched long into the night. Now, it was a hollow reminder of everything that had changed.

Your birthday had come and gone, unacknowledged by the man who once made it his mission to make every moment feel special. The once-vivid memories of his handwritten notes, surprise dinners, and whispered promises had faded into a distant ache. The untouched cake sat on the counter, mocking you with its cheerfulness, its candles still perfectly intact, waiting for a celebration that never came.

You had told yourself you wouldn’t cry. But as you sat alone, your hands clasped tightly around a glass of wine, the dam broke. Silent tears fell, their warmth streaking your cheeks as you stared into the empty room. How had you let it get this far? How had you become invisible in the eyes of the man you loved?

When Toto finally came home, it was well past midnight. You heard the soft jingle of his keys, the door creaking open, and the familiar rhythm of his footsteps in the hallway. A pang of anger shot through you, sharper than the sadness you’d been nursing all night.

He hesitated at the doorway to the bedroom, his tall frame silhouetted by the dim light from the hall. —Liebe? —he called softly, his voice laced with exhaustion.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your robe wrapped tightly around you, the charm bracelet you’d bought yourself resting in your palm. The anger you felt earlier was a simmer now, dull but present.

—I came home as soon as I could. —he started, his tone cautious as if he already sensed the storm brewing. —I know I’ve been…

—Busy? —you interrupted, the bitterness in your voice slicing through the air. You stood, fixing him with a glare that made him stop in his tracks. —Go on. Tell me how you’ve been busy.

Toto sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. —You know how much is going on with the team right now. I don’t want to make excuses, but…

—Then don’t. —you snapped, cutting him off again. —Because I’m tired of hearing excuses, Toto. I’ve been patient. I’ve tried to understand, but last night… Do you even realize what yesterday was?

He stared at you, confusion clouding his features. And then it hit him. His eyes widened, and his shoulders slumped as he whispered. —Scheisse.

Your chest tightened at the confirmation. —That’s it? Scheisse? —You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. —You forgot my birthday, Toto. You didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t even notice when I didn’t say a word all day. Do you even care anymore? Or am I just… someone who happens to live here?

His face crumpled at your words, guilt etched into every line of his features. —Of course, I care. You’re everything to me.

—Am I? —you challenged, your voice trembling. —Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve been putting in all the effort, waiting for you to remember I exist, hoping for scraps of your time. But I can’t do it anymore, Toto. I can’t keep feeling this invisible.

He stepped closer, his hands outstretched as if reaching for you would keep you from slipping away. —Please, don’t say that. I know I’ve let you down, but I…

—You’ve let me down for months. —you interrupted, your voice cracking. —This isn’t just about last night. It’s about every night I’ve spent eating dinner alone, every morning I’ve woken up to an empty bed, and every time I’ve wondered if I’m even a priority in your life anymore.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his usually composed demeanor cracking under the weight of your words. —You are a priority. —he said, his voice breaking. —I’ve been so caught up in work, in trying to keep everything together, that I didn’t see what it was doing to us. To you. But I see it now. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.

You folded your arms across your chest, trying to hold yourself together. —Words aren’t enough, Toto. I’ve heard them before, but nothing ever changes. I need more than promises. I need you to prove that I matter to you.

He nodded, his jaw tightening with determination. —I will. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t leave me.

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes, shook you to your core. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that this time would be different. But the wounds he had left weren’t easily healed.

—You’re asking for something I’m not sure I can give. —you whispered. —You’ve broken my heart, Toto. And I don’t know if I can keep putting the pieces back together on my own.

His hands trembled as he reached for yours, his touch tentative. —Then let me help you. Let me be the man you deserve. I know I’ve failed you, but I’ll spend every day proving that you’re the most important part of my life. Just… don’t give up on us.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken fears and fragile hopes. Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your tears spilling over as you whispered, —I don’t want to give up on us. But I can’t do this alone, Toto.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you might disappear. —You won’t have to. —he murmured. —I promise, you won’t have to.

[pissholesinthesn0w]

On This Night, In This Light - Matty Healy x Reader

well, here it is! the long awaited (by mostly me) Christmas party cheating fic. This is the very idea that brought me to tumblr in the first place, looking to find something similar to this scenario that was truly rotting my brain last holiday season. I had been hesitant to even write it because I wanted to do it justice. A lot of work went into this one, it’s my longest piece I have written, and I think I was able to convey what I wanted to. Anyway blah blah I hope you like it. 🎄

also shoutout to everyone who encouraged and helped me with the writing of this!! @theseventyfive, @mattyhealyarmpits, @honeydiveintome, @sugar-coat-it & @kate-the1975✊

contains: smut 18+, cheating(ish), unprotected sex, gagging, extremely questionable morals

5.2k words

“I’m so excited for you to meet my family,” Ryan squeezes your leg as he pulls the car into the driveway of his aunt’s house. “Think they’ll like me?” You ask halfheartedly. This was far too much, far too soon. He was never meant to be more than a one night stand; but he was nice enough. Plus, you didn’t have anywhere else to go for Christmas so this seemed like a decent choice.

“Of course, what’s not to like?” He smiles at you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. You smile back reluctantly, watching as he practically launches himself out of the drivers seat, coming over to the passenger side to open your door for you. You stand up, smoothing down your sweater dress. Your boots crunch against the snow as he slams the door shut and grabs your hand.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “It will be fun, I promise.” He tells you, pushing a stand of hair behind your ear and planting a kiss on your hand. You smile weakly, hoping you could will yourself to make it through the night. You didn’t want to ruin his Christmas. The both of you look up at the house, a mid century modern home that was very impressive. You knew he came from money, but this?

Before you even get to the front door it swings open, an older woman with short, bright blonde hair and cat eye glasses greets you with a smile. “Ryan! Dear I am so happy to see you! Come in, come in,” she motions the both of you and you follow his lead in the doorway. She wraps her arms around his shoulders enthusiastically, swaying the both of them side to side in a giant hug. Ryan tells him your name and she doesn’t hesitate to give you the same great big hug he’d just given your him. She was very friendly, you thought.

“I’m Denise, so pleased to have you both. Please, take off your coat and shoes, you can put them over here,” she walks over to the coat closet where there were already lots of coats hanging. You wondered how many people would be attending this family dinner, it made you feel a little less out of place knowing it wasn’t super intimate. After pulling off your outerwear, Ryan grabs your hand and you make your way into the kitchen.

You see the counter is full of champagne glasses, half full with a pale amber liquid, the smell of delicious food filling your senses. He picks two up and hands you one, lifting his for a cheers. You oblige, taking it and clinking your glasses together. One sip and wow, you’d never tasted champagne so luxurious. As you made your way to the living area at the back of the house, it became very apparent that his family had money money.

You exchange pleasantries with the members of his family, all warm and welcoming. People were still trickling in as you sat next to your Ryan on the couch, thigh to thigh, as he chatted with his cousins about some sports thing you couldn’t care less about. You mostly just smiled and agreed, as you had nothing to add to the conversation. It was feeling stuffy, you tug on the collar of your sweater, fanning your face. The 2 glasses of champagne you’d had was warming you up from the inside out.

A loud, infectious laugh echos from the front of the house as you hear the screen door creak and slam shut. “Is that fucking Matty?” Ryan stands quickly, all but slamming his glass down on the coffee table. You lift your head with curious eyes to see him. That was his cousin Matty? Your boyfriend had talked about him a few times, but you had never expected him to look like this. He seemed to be the most well dressed of the bunch, wearing a crisp white button up with a black tie and slacks. He was at least a few years older, his gray streaked hair was gelled with his sunglasses pushed back. He looked positively stunning without even trying and suddenly you weren’t sure how you’d make it through this dinner. Matty opens his arms gleefully, wrapping them around Ryan’s shoulder. “Missed ya, mate!” Matty exclaims, rubbing his back. “It’s so good to see you,” Ryan says cheerfully, before looking to you and motioning for you to come over.You scramble to your feet, adjusting your skirt and thigh high socks, all too nervous to approach the two of them. “Matty, this is my beautiful- erm-“ “friend!” You cut him off, nodding as your Ryan introduces you by name to Matty, and he sticks out his hand. Your cheeks flush and heat creeps across your chest as you take his hand in yours; large, calloused and completely sure. You feel his gaze burn into you for a beat before he replies.

“Hello, darling, pleasure to meet you.” You feel his eyes rake over your body and in any other circumstance you’d for sure go home with this guy. But you weren't entirely convinced you would be able to resist, even now.

“Nice to meet you, Matty,” you say, shooting him a sweet smile. You look over to Ryan and he’s beet red, embarrassed. You try to will the thoughts away as Ryan and Matty head towards the kitchen, probably to grab another drink. You watch them leave and cannot shake the feeling that this was going to be a night you won’t forget.

You reclaim your spot on the couch, trying to focus on the small talk within the living room, but your mind wanders elsewhere. Your “friend” rejoins you, alone.

“How’re you feeling?” He whispers into your ear, squeezing your thigh. “Good, I’m good. Everyone is super nice, the house is beautiful,” you tell him. And you mean that, you could already tell this family was genuine and you felt so welcome.

“‘Friend’, huh?,” he laughs nervously but you could tell he didn’t find it funny. You shrug. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” You nudge him with your shoulder and he just shakes his head with a sigh. You do feel a pang of guilt in your gut, but you never promised him anything. It’s not your fault he is presumptuous.

You continue in light conversation with some of his family, and your eyes are drawn to Matty as he walks in and sits at the small card table across the room.

You scan the room, trying not to be obvious as you meet his gaze. He takes a drink, looking at you over the rim of his glass with those fucking eyes, half moon and deep brown and wanting. Your cheeks flush and your heart is racing. He made you nervous, too nervous, and the smirk on his face let you know he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

Two could play this game, you thought. You uncross your legs and spread them open slightly, still looking directly at Matty. His eyebrows lift in surprise and he bites his lower lip, shaking his head at you. You watch him finish his drink, Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat.

This called for more champagne, you thought. You excuse yourself from the conversation and make your way over to the kitchen grab a glass, something to calm your nerves. As you grab another glass, you suddenly feel a presence behind you, dark and looming as you turn your head and see Matty standing way too close.

“S’cuse me, darling,” he muttered as he reaches around you to grab a glass. your feet feel glued to the floor, your brain complete mush as you unable to move or speak. You feel the front of him against your back, solid and warm. You smell his cologne, musky and floral mixed with cigarettes on his breath.

“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, taking a step back and accidentally landing on his foot. “Shit- sorry!” You fumble with the glass and almost spill it all over the counter before he grabs your elbow, steadying you.

“You’re good,” he reassures you, giving your arm a squeeze. “Don’t have to be so nervous, love. Not so cheeky now, are you?” You can hear his smirk as he leans down and whispers to you. Heat pools in your lower belly, the condescension dripping in his voice made you want to drop to your knees and-

“I am not nervous, you just startled me,” you say, straightening your posture and shrugging his hand off of you. His eyes bore into yours, a mischievous shade of brown.

He chuckles, raising his hands. “Oi, she’s fiesty.” Your cheeks burn red. “You seem a bit pent up. How’s my cousin treating you, he taking care of you?” He mutters in your ear.

“What? Yeah, we’re friends, I mean,” you sigh. “He’s sweet, super nice, but-“ you taper off, looking over to Ryan. He was nice, just… boring.

“Oh yeah, he’s great,” Matty nods in agreement, taking a gulp of his drink. “Super nice.” You nod in agreement, distracted by the way his white shirt hugged his shoulders, the tie hanging loosely around his neck. “Goin’ out for a smoke, you coming?”

You look at Ryan again, and he’s lost in conversation with his family. He wouldn’t even notice you’re gone, would he?

”Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

— —

The sun has set in the sky as you stand next to Matty, shivering with your hands in your coat pockets. “Should get a better coat, love.” Matty says.

“I have one, just wouldn’t go well with this outfit,” you motion downwards, showing off your short skirt and socks. You thought it may be too much for a family dinner, but now you were glad you wore them. Matty lights his cigarette and blows out the smoke. He looked positively gorgeous in the warm glow of the Christmas lights. You wanted to memorize everything about him, every curve, every shadow.

“Very nice outfit,” Matty chokes out, looking off into nowhere.

“So where’s your girlfriend?” You ask, feeling warm and bold as the alcohol settles into your bloodstream.

Matty sighs, “don’t have one at the moment. On tour, very busy, don’t have much time,” he rattles on, and a wave of excitement fills you.

“No fuck buddies?”

“Nah, been there, done that. Too much work to keep up. Is that what you and him are? Fuck buddies?” He motions toward the house.

You snort, looking down as you play with the hem of your skirt. “No, no. Well, sort of, I guess. Like I said, he’s a nice guy.”

“But he doesn’t fuck you properly?” Matty asks, nonchalantly as he takes another drag from his cigarette, cheeks hollowed. You stare at the red glow and you almost choke on your spit.

“Would you be quiet?!” You half whisper, eliciting a cheesy smile from Matty. “Relax, everyone’s doing their own thing, they’re not paying attention to us. You didn’t answer the question, by the way.”

You exhale. “No, not really.”

“That’s a shame, darling.” Matty drops his cigarette and stomps it into the cement with his boot.

You look in the window behind him, you grab his arm and drag him over to the side of the yard, out of sight.

“Whoa, where you taking me love?” Matty asks playfully, letting you take him where you please.

“You gotta stop calling that unless you want me to fall in love with you, I’m serious,” you shake your head at him, in slight disbelief of the situation you got yourself in.

He laughs and your heart skips a beat. Without thinking, you fall into him, pushing him against the side of the house and crash your lips into his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he runs his hands up your back, returning your kiss with fervor. Heat runs through you as you swallow his moans, trying to keep quiet. “Tryin to shag me in the yard, dirty girl,” he mumbles.

“Not in the yard, what kind of girl do you take me for?” You say, catching your breath.

“A very hot girl,” Matty laughs. He was such a man. “Seriously, what about your erm, friend? Won’t he be upset?”

“Can we not talk about him for five minutes? I should be getting back inside though. He’s going to notice we’re both gone.” You say, rubbing your lip gloss off of his lower lip with your thumb. He grips your hand firmly. and takes your thumb into his mouth, wrapping his soft lips around the digit and you freeze. You have to stop yourself from letting out a moan, because dear god he was so sexy. You feel his tongue swirl around your finger and your knees almost buckle.

“Fuck,” you mutter, eyes wide in disbelief as he pulls your thumb out with a pop. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, adjusting his pants to hide his growing bulge. “That all it takes to get you worked up, huh?” You tease, running your fingers through your hair and adjusting your clothing so it doesn’t look like you were just making out with someone.

“So you’re saying if I feel you up under your skirt, your little panties won’t be soaked, sweetheart?” Matty asks casually and doesn’t let you answer. “Back in, let’s go. You go first.”

You don’t have it in you to argue at the moment. You make your way back inside, peeling off your coat and you can hear Ryan’s laugh from across the room, great. He spots you.

“Hey babe!” He practically shouts at you, his loud mouth giving you the feeling he’s quite tipsy already. You smile weakly as you make your way to him. He throws his arm around your shoulder. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” He asks no one in particular as you hear the screen door shut. It was Matty, and all you could do was hope he would just ignore you both. But, you wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Gorgeous,” Matty chimes in. “How’d you guys meet?” He asks curiously and you want to run away and hide. Instead you take a seat on the empty couch.

“We were in the same lit class, took a few times to get her to agree to go out with me but she finally said yes. Hard to get, this one,” he says and you roll your eyes.

Matty chuckles. “Now look at you, oh to be young and in love.”

“Well-“ you start before Denise calls everyone in for dinner, and you thanked god for it. Ryan grabs your hand and you take your seat at the table. To your dismay, Matty pulls out the chair next to you and sits down, wiggling his eyebrows at you and you let out a sigh, more dramatic than you intended and Ryan asks if you’re ok.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” you smile. You’re very aware of the way Matty’s boot is touching the side of yours, your nerves alight with the smallest point of contact.

— —

Dinner was great, everything went fine as you all ate, you’d catch Matty’s eye every few minutes and a flood of nerves shot through you, blood rushing hot in your veins. You play with the hemline of your sweater and realize you need a moment to yourself, a moment to breathe without prying eyes on you.

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” You ask Ryan, and he points to the stairs. “Want me to take you?” He asks, running his hand up your thigh and you slap him away.

“No, I can find it. Be back,” you say, giving his shoulders a quick squeeze as you make your way to the staircase. You look over at Matty and he takes a big gulp of his drink, his eyes dark and sinister over the rim of the glass.

You shut the bathroom door behind you and catch yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed pink and your lip gloss was the slightest bit smudged. You feel brazen and peel your underwear off, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to you with your wetness.

There’s a knock on the door and before you can say anything it swings open, Matty standing casually in the hallway. “Hello?” You say, trying to act surprised that he followed you up here.

“Hi, sweets,” he smiles, looking down directly at your soaked panties in your hand. “What do you have there?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe. His lips curve into a smile as he sees you weigh your options for a second before pulling him inside and shutting the door quietly.

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you? Sitting all pretty up here waiting for me while my whole family is downstairs,” he teases, taking a step toward you. “Filthy girl.” He grabs the soaked fabric from your hand and shoves it in his pocket. You shudder, the anticipation growing in your gut as he rolls up the his sleeves, revealing a littering of tattoos.

“Maybe,” you ponder, squeezing your thighs together.

He cages you in, hands on either side of you and presses you up against the wall, his body firm. “Tell me to fuck off, and I will,” he breathes into the shell of your ear before planting a soft kiss on your jawline, causing your knees to buckle underneath you.

“No,” you mutter, and he hums in response, grabbing your hips and digging his fingers in. “Want me to fuck you, sweet girl?” A flood of arousal gushes out of you, thighs turning sticky with your honey. You nod feverishly and Matty falls to his knees, calloused hands run up the backs of your thighs and involuntarily your hips buck forward, ready to give him all of you.

“Can I?” He asks, looking up at you through thick lashes while he plays with the hem of your skirt. “Please, please,” you beg, fighting the urge to grab his head and shove it between your legs. “Been thinking about this since I saw you with these fucking stockings,” he runs his hands up your legs before pushing up your skirt, admiring you for a moment. “Aw, look how wet you are darling, should’ve just said so. Really would’ve fucked you right out on the lawn,” he teases and licks a broad stripe up your center.

You grip onto the side of the sink, letting out a sharp moan that you instantly knew was too fucking loud given the circumstances. “Shh, shh, you’ve got to be quiet, can you do that for me?” Matty asks, littering kisses on your inner thighs. “M’sorry, I’ll be quiet, promise,” you breathe and he dives back in and kisses your cunt before running his tongue along your folds, moaning into you as he tastes you. “Sweet little cunt, I’d be devouring you every single fuckin’ night,” he mumbles, circling his tongue around your swollen bud and giving it a harsh suck before sliding a finger inside of you. “Oh my god,” you grab his shoulders and he pushes your right leg up against the wall to spread you open even more. Your vision goes hazy as pleasure consumes you. He sets a teasing pace as he fingers you, slipping one more in before he curls them just right and he looks to you for your response, smug look on his face that made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing. “Right there?” He asks as he hits that spot inside of you over and over again. Pleasure blooms inside of you as he picks up his pace, filthy wet sounds filling up the bathroom. His mouth is insistent on your clit, alternating between sucking and licking, moaning into you as his fingers never relent.

Your leg underneath you shakes as you struggle to keep yourself upright. “I’ve got you,” he says, pulling out of you and helping you lower your leg, giving your ass a quick squeeze before he is on his feet again, crashing his lips into yours as he pushes you into the wall even more, you can feel him hard against you, straining against his trousers. He runs his hands up back under your sweater and you feel him unhook your bra, a motion you could tell he’d done many times given how easily he got it open. He grabs a handful of your breast, squeezing gently and you sigh, throwing your head back as he rubs his thumb over your peaked nipple. “Off, off,” you breathe as you feverishly pull off your sweater and toss it haphazardly across the bathroom tile. “Beautiful,” he says, admiring you as he kisses your tits. His hot mouth wraps around one nipple, tongue running along your sensitive bud, thumb pinching and tweaking the other. You run toe fingers through his hair, pushing him into you more. His teeth graze your skin and your body jerks, you feel his smile against your flesh.

You snake your hand between your bodies and rub against his bulge, a shuddering breath leaving lips. “Fuck, s’good,” he groans as he moves up to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin and some sick part of you hoped it would leave marks.

“I wanna suck you off,” you whisper, pulling his face up to meet yours, licking into his mouth as you continue to rub his hard cock under his pants. He lets out a sharp breath. “Yeah? Gorgeous girl wants to suck my dick? Yeah, ok, get me out, darling,” he looks down as you sink to your knees slowly, eyes about glazed over while you fumble with his belt. “This off too, please, want to see you,” you tug on the bottom of his shirt and he obliges, unbuttoning each button with nimble fingers while you watch. He shrugs off his shirt and your jaw drops, his inked skin and making him even more attractive than he was before. He was lean but fit, tight muscles and the littering of hair below his navel shot heat right through you.

You trace the outline of his hip tattoo, a beautiful blue rose that read we are kings.

“Look at you,” you say under your breath, quickly losing focus of the task at hand. He threads his fingers through your hair and he undoes his buckle with one hand. You pull his pants and underwear down in one go and his cock springs free; thick, tip red and leaking and just beautiful. You never thought you would say that about a man’s dick but it just made sense, it matched the rest of his body.

“Shh, shh, here- open up,” he ruts forward and rubs his length against your cheek and your eyes flutter closed. He taps the head of his cock against your lips and you oblige, letting him enter your warm and waiting mouth. He felt warm and heavy on your tongue, the velvety skin sliding in and out as you bob your head on his length. “Fuck, baby, feels s’good,” he moans, looking down at you in awe. This is definitely not what he expected to happen tonight. You hum around him at the sweet praise, swallowing every bit of precum he gives you. You take a deep breath through your nose before you take him deeper, surpressing a gag as his tip hits the back of your throat, your nose pressing against his dark hair.

The groans leaving his lips make you woozy, forgetting everything in that moment as all you want to do is make him feel good. You look up at him with tears brimming your lash line, and what a view, you thought. His hair was disheveled, his sweat sheened skin flushed pink, his brows furrowed in concentration as he tries not to spill down your throat.

You lift off and wrap your hand around him, slick with your spit as you stroke him. You touch his balls with your other hand, massaging them at the same time. “Perfect girl,” he coos at you, admiring your fucked out face and heaving chest. “I want you,” you sigh, eyes wide and innocent as you look up at him.

“Want me to fuck you? Yeah? How do you want me?” You turn around to bend over and rest your arms on the sink, grinding your ass against him with a sway of your hips. You can see him admiring you in the mirror, running his finger through your wetness. You shudder at the feeling, being so vulnerable for what was essentially a complete stranger; but you felt safe with him.

Matty reaches down into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out a shiny condom package.

“Wait, I-“ you pause. “I’m on the pill, in case you just want to,-“

Matty lets out a deep sigh, the thought of being inside of you and feeling you making his heart beat out of his chest. “Yeah, ok sweet girl.” His voice is soft, bent over and breathing in your ear, searching your eyes in your reflection for confirmation.

“Please,” you breathe, every ounce of shame has vanished from your body at this point. All you could focus on was feeling him inside of you, all of him.

“Please, please fuck me, I need it” you babble mindlessly. Matty runs his tip along your folds, nudging against your aching clit and finally starts to push in. The stretch was all consuming; pain mixed with pleasure that seemed to separate your mind from your body. You held onto the sink like your life depended on it, the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“That’s it,” Matty praises as he pushes in more, all the way until you’re completely enveloping him. “Perfect fit, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me” he whispers, hands running along the curve of your ass as he grabs a handful of flesh, kneading it. “Fuck, Matty,”

“You’ve got to stay quiet, yeah?” You nod your head, mouth hanging open as he fucks into you. Matty stills inside of you, a loud burst of laughter from downstairs reminds you exactly what you were doing.

He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. “Matty, what-“ you see him stand back up with his black tie in his hand. “I can’t have you moaning and groaning, sweetheart,” he states plainly, crumpling the fabric into a ball. “Here, it’s for your own good,” he holds it up to your lips and you open. He shoves his tie into your mouth and you groan, now muffled by the fabric. Your eyes are wide as you nod at him, breathing through your nose.

He lines himself up and pushes all the way in with sharp thrust, you clench around him as he starts to move, his fingers digging into your hips. “Don’t think your little boyfriend would like this, would he?” He spits, venom dripping from his tongue. “Little slut needed a real man to rail her in the bathroom at his family Christmas party, god you’re fucking filthy,” he groans on and you’re rendered speechless; half from the tie in your mouth and half from his dirty words and his cock hitting that spot deep inside of you. Normally his inflated ego would turn you off, but something about it coming from him just spurred you on even more. Unlike most men you’ve been with, he was able to back it all up. You nod feverishly at him, admiring his reflection in the mirror, cheeks and chest flushed pink and pupils blown wide with lust.

Matty leans forward, his chest to your back and brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing mind numbing circles over your swollen bud as he continues to split you in half with his relentless thrusts, hips slamming into you. You can’t hold back your moan, your cunt clenching tightly around his cock. “You like that?” Matty asks, already knowing the answer as your eyes cross from pleasure, pressure building in your lower belly with every stroke of his fingers. The fabric in your mouth was all but dripping down your chin, not doing much now to quiet the noises he was drawing out of you.

“You gonna cum around my cock, darling? C’mon, milk me with this tight little cunt, that’s right,” he grunts into your ear and that’s what throws you over the edge completely; white hot pleasure consuming you, vision blurry as your mind goes completely blank, waves of euphoria pulsing through your body. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Matty grunts, face crumpled and pained as he swiftly pulls out of you to stroke himself, abs tense he cums all over your ass, white ropes painting your soft skin. You arch your back and push up into him, him squeezing the remnants of his orgasm out, slapping his softening dick against your cunt.

You spit out his tie, the sopping fabric landing in the porcelain sink. “Oh my fucking god,” you breathe, trying your best to not collapse into the floor, your body completely drained. “You’re unreal.” Matty is looking at you, his lips curling into a soft smile and you feel a pang in your stomach. Was it guilt, or something else?

“Here, let me clean you up,” Matty says, pulling up his pants and putting himself away. You watch as he grabs a hand towel from the closet and runs it under warm water. Ryan never did this for you, you thought.

“How are we going to get out of this, exactly?” You ask, somewhat rhetorically. Matty just chuckles, wiping the warm towel over your bottom. “Stop doing all that thinking, darling. I hate it when you do that,” he says playfully, pulling your skirt back down. You stand back up straight, all of a sudden feeling insecure just standing with your tits hanging out. He hands you your bra and sweater.

“Relax, bet he didn’t even notice we’ve been gone,” he says confidently, but you weren’t so sure. You had no idea how long it had actually been.

“I think I should just leave, I’ll tell him I’m not feeling good. I’ll get an Uber home.” You tell Matty. It was true, you really weren’t feeling super great about what you’d just done. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it, because it really was just that good.

“How about this,” Matty says, digging his car keys out of his pocket. “Take these, go out the side door and wait for me in my car. I’ll say my goodbyes downstairs and I can drive you home. Trust me, Ryan’s got to be so piss drunk by now he won’t even realize. He’s always like this at family gatherings.”

”Ok, yeah, sure. Thanks,” you grab his keys from him, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close. “Least I could do, love” he says before he takes your head in his hand and kisses you gently, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his tenderness. A far cry from the way he was fucking you just 5 minutes ago.

“I told you, stop calling me that unless you want me to fall in love with you, Matty,” you exasperate, pulling your boots back on.

“Maybe I do.”

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 18

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Amren Bashing, Low Self Esteem and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

The first time Azriel heard Eira play the harp...was Winter Solstice Eve. She had moved the instruments into one corner of the Living Room and was contently plucking the strings, Nyx on her lap.

Azriel watched from where he stood in the doorway as his mate strummed the harp, the sweet, lovely sounds filling the room. She gently bounced Nyx to the sound of the harp's music, Nyx's head bobbing with each movement.

Nyx was having the time of his life if his bright grin was anything to go by.

Azriel smiled gently as he watched the scene. Eira looked so...so happy, content, sitting there and playing her harp with Nyx on her lap. They were both grinning like fools, and Azriel's smile widened when Eira's gaze flicked up and landed on him.

"Happy Solstice Eve," his mate said softly, continuing the song, the last few notes ringing out in the room. It was decorated with pine garlands and dark ribbons, with little twinkling fae lights in the decorations.

He chuckled at her soft murmur, striding over to them, his gaze flickering across the living room as he moved, taking note of the way Eira had decorated the room. He knew it had been her because he had spent an evening a few days ago helping her string up the pine garlands and tying the bows she had made onto them. 

"And a very Happy Solstice Eve to you as well, my love," he replied, resting a hand on her shoulder to give it a light squeeze as he leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "And you, Nyxie-" he added, grinning at his nephew.

Nyx giggled gleefully at him, reaching out for him with a babble that vaguely seemed to be an attempt at a greeting.

Azriel gently plucked him from Eira's grasp and tossed him into the air in a move that was a little more reckless than usual, catching the babe again a moment later and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I am surprised you aren't in the kitchen baking," he told Eira, who smiled as she watched him and Nyx play.

"Feyre told me to relax," she answered with a sigh. "I am not allowed to enter the kitchen on threat of no presents."

"Well, I suppose we'll have no cake this year..." he muttered with mock disappointment, bouncing Nyx a little in his arms and eliciting a giggle from his nephew.

Eira just snorted. "Have some trust in me, love. I made cookies days ago."

"Oh, did you?" he inquired, bouncing Nyx in one arm. "And where in the house did you hide these baked goods, Sweetheart?"

"Far from Cassian, hopefully," she muttered under her breath. "I have the shadows protecting them."

Azriel chuckled, the sound low and soft. "A wise choice," he agreed. "Or else Cassian would've devoured them all in five minutes."

Nyx giggled then, seemingly finding the conversation funny, and Azriel bounced him in his arms again, pressing another kiss to the baby's cheek.

"Yes, yes, Nyxie, this is all very amusing," he said with a grin, resting the baby on his hip as he glanced down at his mate, still sat by the harp. "Can you play another song, Eira?"

Eira smiled at him, a bright blush sweeping across her cheeks. "Of course," she answered, picking up the harp again, her fingers shifting to a different position on the strings.

Her fingers started to move across the harp's strings, and another sweet, lilting tune filled the room, a smile on his mate's face as she played.

Azriel listened silently, his gaze shifting between Eira - who was still blushing adorably - and Nyx, who was watching her play with wide, fascinated eyes. The baby's head lolled and bobbed to the beat of the music, his eyes tracking his aunt's fingers as they shifted across the harp's strings.

The rest of their family decided to trickle in slowly, even Varian and Amren deciding to show up.

Nyx squirmed in Azriel's arms as people began to fill the room, giggling eagerly and watching the guests with excited little squeaks and babbles.

Eira continued playing softly, nearly absentmindedly, smiling at Nesta as her sister found a seat next to her.

"Only three more days," Nesta murmured and Eira gave her a happy little grin.

"Three more days," she agreed, her excitement apparent in her voice.

Azriel heard her words, and they sent a small jolt of something - anticipation, he realised - through his chest. Three more days...

Nesta caught his eye, raising a brow meaningfully with a smirk on her face that he ignored.

"That does sound better than your screeching," Amren said suddenly and Eira's hands froze. A growl rose up in his throat. He opened his mouth to respond, but Eira was quicker than him. 

"I'd like to see you play the harp, Amren." she sniped, and oh by the stars above, the sharpness and the snark in his normally sweet mate's voice was so different, but in a...good way. It was unexpected, but he liked it more than he expected.

"Touchy," Amren answered, but it seemed more like a remark than a real complaint. She had a strangely...amused expression on her face that even Azriel could not interpret, but the look only lasted for a moment before it disappeared again.  "You gained some claws," Amren complimented.

"Amren," Rhys said in a warning tone.

"What?" Amren asked, turning to him with feigned innocence in her eyes.

Rhys just rolled his eyes, shaking his head and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like unbelievable.

"Are you done now, Amren?" Eira asked, her voice icy. "I am still waiting on an apology for last time."

"Whatever for?" Amren said with a scoff. Azriel felt the growl in his throat grow louder.

"Oh, I don't know," Eira said in a mock-thoughtful tone. "Maybe for the fact that you called me a waste? That you wanted to turn me into a weapon? Maybe for that? Maybe for upsetting me so much that I winnowed straight into Illyria and burned down a forest?!"

"I didn't say it because I disliked you," Amren said with a huff. "You're so damn...soft. Vulnerable, even.  And you have unimaginable power at your fingertips. Not using it is a waste."

A low snarl rose up in Azriel's throat, and he was considering going over there to tear the silver-eyed menace limb from limb.

Eira's hands stilled on her harp, her expression growing cold. Her eyes were like ice, glimmering with suppressed anger as she said, "Then it's a good thing your opinion of me means so little."

A smirk appeared on Amren's face. "You used to fear me," she purred. "You used to run when you saw me coming. But now...now you're a little bit more confident, are you?"

"I have more to fight for, to live for," Eira said coldly.

"Oh, yes." Amren's smirk widened. "I was wondering when you'd..."

That's how far she came. A moment later, lightning crackled in the palm of Eira's hand

"Finish that sentence, Amren." Eira hissed, and the lightning in her hand crackled and glowed, shining like silver in the light of the room.

The look on Amren's face suddenly changed as she stared, almost dumbstruck, at the lightning in Eira's hand. She was, for the first time since Azriel knew her, shocked into silence

Rhys' eyebrows rose as he took in the situation. On one hand, Feyre was giggling into Rhys' shoulder at the sight of Eira holding lightning. On the other...well, Azriel would not stand for anyone disrespecting his mate. Not when they were already pushing her this far.

A glance around the room showed that Feyre and Cassian were thoroughly interested in the scene in front of them. Nesta was watching Eira with something akin to awe, and Mor was leaning against a bookshelf with a slightly amused smile on her face.

Azriel turned his gaze back to his still-fuming mate and the shocked, nearly apprehensive Amren, the baby on his hip still babbling and giggling happily, blissfully oblivious to the scene in front of him.

"My, my, you are feisty today," Amren breathed, her composure back in place with an almost forced casualness.

"And you're far more annoying than usual today," Eira retorted.

The tension in the room was so thick, that Azriel was half-convinced that you could've reached out a hand and physically touched it.

"You have grown bold," Amren said conversationally, seemingly unbothered by the lightning Eira was still holding.

But Azriel could see the flicker of something in her eyes. Something...not quite fear, but similar. She was slightly nervous in the face of Eira's unexpected anger.

"Amren, that's enough," Feyre cut in.

Feyre's voice echoed through the room, stern and commanding. Amren's head whirled around to peer at her as Feyre stared back with a firm gaze of her own.

"No more," she said firmly, her eyes flickering between Amren and Eira.

"I just wanted a peek at her power."

Azriel's eyes darkened. Eira clenched her hand into a fist, the lightning in her hand vanishing as she muttered angrily, "Next time, I won't just give you a peek."

Amren huffed. "Are you threatening me?"

Azriel growled, low and sharp, handing Nyx to Nesta. "She isn't. I am," Azriel snapped. "Either you treat my mate with respect or we will be having a very different sort of conversation."

Amren looked up at him, a flicker of surprise in her silver eyes. It was gone the next moment, but she wisely made the choice to not say anything.

Meanwhile, Eira was still bristling, tension written across her face as she took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself.

"I apologise," Amren said stiffly.

Eira's eyebrows rose, startled by Amren's unexpected apology.

A tense silence followed, but it broke a moment later when Azriel said, "That is something you don't hear often, Amren."

Amren shot him a glare, but there was no real malice behind it.

A huff of agreement came from Rhys, and Feyre muttered something that sounded suspiciously like not going to get used to this.

For once, Azriel thought he had to agree with his friend. Amren actually apologising, especially to someone like Eira... He doubted they'd see that sight ever again.

It was something that much was certain.

Cassian suddenly let out a snicker, and they all turned to look at him.

"What?" he asked, grinning in their direction. "That Lightning is badass!"

Feyre chuckled as well, but it quickly turned into laughter as other people chimed in. Even Varian gave an amused chuckle that sounded surprisingly sincere coming from him.

Eira's cheeks turned a little red, as they always did when attention was focused on her.

She glanced up at him, a mixture of embarrassment and something like pleasure at the little caress, and he had to bite back a smile.

His mate, still so shy when confronted with praise or attention.

Azriel kept his gaze on her for a while longer, and his smile widened a little when she let out a shaky sigh.

Her curls were as beautiful as always, and she was dressed in a gown, silver threading winding across the dark velvet of the skirt. On every other female, the dress would've simply been pretty. On Eira, it was breathtaking.

Ours, whispered the shadows, and Azriel had to agree.

She was his in every way- his mate, his partner, his family. He wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

"Can I...May I give you your present already? I think you can use it tomorrow," she asked him softly as the evening came to a close.

Azriel turned his attention back to her, hearing the quiet but excited tone in her voice. She truly was too sweet.

"Of course," he answered with a soft smile. "But what is it?"

Eira just gave him a smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and his heart started beating a little faster in anticipation. He'd never seen her this...eager about anything before.

"Something I hope you'll enjoy," she said mysteriously, standing up and grabbing his hand, tugging him to his feet. "But you have to come with me."

She led him up to her room, which was halfway packed up, most of her things already up at the House that she had christened Bluebell Cottage.

Azriel glanced around the room, a flicker of sadness going through him at the sight of the already half-emptied room.

But he had to admit, there was a strange sense of... anticipation in his chest. 

The package was soft and wrapped in red wrapping paper. Azriel took the package from her, his eyebrows rising as he felt how soft it was.

"What's in it?" he asked with a hint of curiosity and excitement.

"Unwrap it," she answered.

He let out a little hum, carefully working to open the wrapping without tearing it too much. He could feel Eira's excitement rising as he slowly worked his way through the wrapping, and his curiosity grew as well.

He could hear a few amused chuckles from the shadows, as some of them seemed to know what was in the wrapping.

A moment later, there was a pair of buttery soft, black leather gloves in his hands. He could only stare at them for a moment.

"Your hands start to hurt you more when it gets cold outside," Eira explained quietly. "I lined them with the offcuts from the second pelt you gave me. And I had them enchanted so that they were water resistant."

Azriel stared, shocked and silent, as he held the gloves in his hands. He could tell without even putting them on that they would be perfect- not just for the cold, but also fit snugly around his scarred fingers like they'd been made for him.

He could feel Eira's nerves increasing as he stared at her in shocked disbelief, almost like she was worried about his reaction.

It was an absolutely... perfect gift, and he knew that he could never ever repay her for this. That, for once, he didn't know what to say.

He had never had someone... think about him like this, someone who'd even care about something like the scars on his hands.

"Was that alright?" she asked worriedly.

"You made them for me," he said weakly, not a question.

Eira's eyes widened a little, and he realised that she thought that he was upset.

"Of course it's alright," he said quickly, staring down at the gloves in his hands.

His mate, his perfect kind and sweet and caring mate... He couldn't comprehend how lucky he was to have found her.

But Eira didn't look entirely sure, her anxious expression still on her face as she asked, "Do... do you like them?"

He tore his gaze away from the gloves and looked up at her.

"Like them?" he repeated, his voice soft and slightly awed. "Eira, they're perfect."

The anxiety on Eira's face vanished at his words, replaced with an adorable mixture of relief and excitement.

"You do?" she said, her voice eager and her eyes sparkling as she watched him hold the gloves in his hands.

Azriel just nodded, gently setting the gloves down on her still-untouched bed. He had to fight back the urge to take her into his arms right there and then.

"What did you make out of the rest?" he asked her. She looked at him with wide eyes. “You made the shrug for yourself. You made me the gloves. What else did you make?”

Eira gave him a slow smile.

"You'll see," she said quietly. "Hopefully soon. And now I expect you to win that Snowball Fight tomorrow.“

Azriel raised an eyebrow, both at the change of topic and at the implication of winning that Snowball Fight.

"And what will I get if I win?" he asked, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

Eira took on a thoughtful expression as if she was actually thinking about his question.

"I don't know," she said slowly, looking like she was considering the idea. "What do you want from me if you win?"

Azriel shrugged casually, trying to ignore the eager, almost greedy shadows.

“A Kiss.”

***

Her sister's birthday dawned bright early, mostly because Eira was already in the kitchen by dawn. It did mean that she got to kiss Azriel goodbye though, before he, Rhys and Cassian disappeared to their annual Snowball Fight...and she got to finish the finishing touches on Feyre's birthday cake.

It was a beautiful morning, one of those days that just seemed perfect, and Eira hummed to herself cheerfully as she finished decorating Feyre's birthday cake.

Despite the fact that her sister was a literal High Lady, she had insisted that her birthday be a quiet affair, no huge celebration or party, just the inner circle and the family.

"Do you...need help?" Nesta's voice came from the doorway.

Eira paused in her decorating, glancing up to find Nesta standing in the doorway.

"I wouldn't say no to the help," she answered with a smile, waving her sister over.

Nesta came over to the counter, silently watching as Eira finished the last touches on the cake.

"It looks good," Nesta said admiringly, studying the cake's smooth dark chocolate surface and the bright silver icing.

"I did stars this year," she said brightly.

"So I see," Nesta said, studying the various silver stars that had been carefully piped onto the cake's surface.

"I think I might've made it a bit too plain, though," Eira said as she looked it over. "I should've added a few more,."

"It looks good as it is," Nesta said, her expression slightly bewildered at the sight of her younger sister worrying over cake decorations. "Feyre will love it, believe me."

"Right," Eira said, taking a step back and studying the cake with a critical eye. "Yes, I think this works."

Nesta looked slightly amused at the way she was looking at the cake, almost studying it, and shook her head, muttering faintly, "You're worse than Feyre with her painting, I swear."

"You did manage to make yourself very clear to Amren though," Nesta said calmly. "I am proud of you."

"I wasn't trying to," she mumbled, heat rising in her cheeks as Nesta chuckled softly. "I was just, y'know, frustrated. I guess I spoke more than I should've."

"You don't have to apologize for putting her in her place," Nesta said, looking amused at the memory of Eira's outburst the previous day. "It was a long time coming, honestly."

"I just-" Eira paused, fiddling with the end of her sleeves.

"It just really made me angry, that she was saying all those things," she mumbled. "I never did anything to her."

"That's because you've always been nice ," Nesta said with a sigh, her gaze and voice surprisingly fond. "In a way that a lot of people tend to overlook. But Amren was pushing it yesterday, and I'm just glad you finally snapped at her."

"It was about time, in my opinion," Feyre chimed in from the doorway, where she was cradling Nyx against her chest. "Amren's been treating you like a doormat for long enough."

"You aren't supposed to be in here!" Eira complained. "Happy Birthday!"

Feyre just smiled, not bothering to look apologetic at all as she said, "Thank you. This looks great."

Nesta just laughed as well, and Eira huffed, but there was no real displeasure in her expression.

"Go away," she said firmly to her sister, shooing both Feyre and Nesta out of the kitchen. "No birthday girl of mine is going to see her cake before they're supposed to."

Feyre let out a mock-offended gasp, but obeyed anyways, ducking out of the kitchen with Nyx still in her arms.

"Spoilsport," she called out over her shoulder, grinning.

Eira just rolled her eyes, even when she was already pulling out all the makings for breakfast.

They spent most of the day playing with Nyx, before Azriel, Rhys and Cassian arrived back, Azriel with his 200th victory in tow.

The three males arrived back not long after lunch time, their clothes rumpled and hair messy from the snowball fight.

Cassian and Rhys headed for the chairs, while Azriel made a beeline for her, looking slightly predatory in a way that made her heart beat faster.

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks under his gaze, his gaze looking like he was ready to drag her off to a privatepart of the house.

She suppressed the urge to shiver, instead asking with forced innocence, "Did you boys have fun?"

"We certainly did," Azriel answered, his voice a low rumble as he closed the distance between them and gripped the waist, pulling her into his arms.

She let out a soft gasp as she landed against his chest, one of his hands resting on her hip.

"We had a wonderful game," Rhys chimed in from one of the couches, earning an annoyed muttering from Cassian.

"Wonderfully brutal, you mean," Cassian said dryly. "I swear, we were closer to frostbite than we were to a friendly match."

"Sounds like someone is just being a sore loser," Rhys said calmly, earning a scoff from Cassian.

"I am not!" he protested, looking more like a child whose favourite toy has been taken away than a centuries-old warrior.

"Want to help me in the kitchen?" she said quickly.

Azriel shot a warning glare at both Rhys and Cassian, before tightening his grip on her waist and nodding.

"Of course," he said, his voice so low that it rumbled in his chest.

They did manage it into the kitchen. And then his hands were suddenly all over her.

Azriel backed her up against the wall as soon as the door shut behind them, trapping her against the wall with his body.

The shadows swirled around them in an almost excited way, filling the room and blocking out the sounds of the voices in the other room.

"You owe me a kiss," he said, his voice a low rumble against the skin of her neck as he leaned down to press kisses against her neck. She shivered at the feeling of his lips on her skin, the heat of his body pressed up against hers. "I won."

"I guess I do," she answered breathlessly, wrapping her arms around his neck and gently running her fingers through the short, soft hair at the base of his head.

His mouth moved against her neck, his lips teasing and tempting, and she had to stifle a soft moan as his hands gripped her hips.

The shadows were almost dancing around them, swirling like they were as eager as she was. His hands were gripping her hips with a possession that made her feel almost faint with want, and the heat in her lower belly was spreading like wildfire throughout her body.

It was like a flame, igniting every inch of her body as his mouth moved up to press against her jaw, his lips brushing against her skin. She was shaking with the effort of holding back her moans, with the effort of holding herself together.

It was harder than she'd expected, with him so close, his presence almost overwhelming and his touch devastatingly good.

His mouth moved across her cheek, his breathing a low growl as he said, "I love it when you get flushed like this."

She shivered heavily, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt as he pressed his hips against hers in a way that made her pant helplessly.

And then he kissed her lips. Fitted his mouth over hers, his tongue plundering her mouth with no forewarning.

And she responded instantly, opening her mouth and letting his tongue into her mouth. Her mind was going hazy, her thoughts disappearing in an instant as she clutched at his shirt and pressed her body closer to his.

His hands were gripping at her hips like iron, forcing her body to stay still and taking as he claimed her mouth with a possessive ferocity.

She was completely at his mercy, shaking against him as he completely overwhelmed her with the force of his kiss.

His tongue was everywhere in her mouth, sweeping in and claiming her mouth as his own. She let out a desperate moan, the noise swallowed up by his mouth as his body pressed her up against the wall.

She was almost mindless with desire, her every thought and sense focused only on the feel of him against her, on the way his hands were gripping her hips and the hot, heavy feel of his body against hers.

And then he pulled back, panting. Resting his forehead against hers.

She was as flushed as he was, her lips slick and swollen from his kiss as she struggled to get her breathing under control.

His forehead was pressed against hers, the two of them just standing there, trying to catch their breath, as the shadows danced around them.

"Three days," he whispered.

"Three days," she echoed.

She rested her head back against the wall, her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a weary sigh.

Her heart was still racing, the heat in her lower abdomen aching like a throb, but they couldn't simply disappear to a private room when they were surrounded by the entire inner circle.

And she was not going to have her first time with Azriel somewhere public.

So instead, she focused on getting her breathing back under control, the heat of his body still overwhelming.

She forced her eyes open, studying his face. He was just as flushed as she was, his breathing heavy, but his eyes...his eyes were still dark and burning fiercely.

"You still owe me a solstice gift," she said with a weak grin.

Azriel managed a strained chuckle, lifting one hand up to cup her face and brush his thumb over her lip like he couldn't resist touching her.

"Indeed I do," he said, his voice still low and husky. "Let's see if we are already at the gift giving portion of the evening.

They heard the sound of laughter drifting in from the sitting room, and Azriel let out a rueful sigh, leaning his forehead against herss again.

"We should probably go back out to the others," he said quietly, his thumb still rubbing against her lip.

She almost wanted to disagree, to tell him that she wanted to stay right where they were. But reluctantly, she nodded in agreement, letting out a sigh of her own as she pushed herself off the wall.

Azriel's hands slid from her waist and hips, but he took her hand as they made their way back out of the kitchen.

They reappeared in the doorway, and Eira had to force down a flush as all of the others turned to look at them, as if they knew exactly what had been going on in the kitchen.

No one commented though, either because they didn't actually know or because they were being tactful for once, and instead, Rhys simply lifted the bottle of wine and said, "There you are. Come and sit down already."

But Azriel just led Eira over to one of the couches and sank down beside her, one arm wrapping around her shoulder to pull her closer. Not that she was resisting at all.

Eira just let herself lean against Azriel, resting her head on his shoulder and enjoying the solid warmth of his touch.

Gifts were exchanged, for Feyre's birthday and for Winter Solstice.

The wrapping paper piled up as more gifts were handed out, Nyx having more fun with the paper than his actually toys and Eira managed to find herself sitting almost on Azriel's lap with his arm still around her.

Not that she was complaining. If anything, she was simply enjoying the close contact and the heat of his body.

There were little piles of gifts before each of them. Eira was quite proud of the embroidered hair ribbons she had made for Nesta, Valkyrie white silk with little silver flames all over them, while Feyre had gotten an embroidered silk scarf. She had made other things, of course, other than the gloves she had already given to Azriel. A bright red silk dressing gown for Mor, even Cassian had gotten a new leather sheath for his daggers, while she had made a notebook cover for Rhys.

The others seemed to appreciate the gifts for the most part, with Mor giving her an overly dramatic show of affection as thanks. 

Mor herself had oviously decided to go the route of extravagance that year...with Cassian giving an offended noise at the box she handed him, glaring at it and protesting, "I don't need a face cream."

Which only made the rest of the group burst out laughing, even Amren managing a smirk.

"You certainly need something for those scars and freckles, darling," Mor said with a smirk. "I can see your skin deteriorating as we speak."

"It is not deteriorating," Cassian protested. "That's just the rugged look that I was going for."

Eira bit back a laugh at that, still staring at the dagger Cassian had given her, with a wink and the words "Not quite as cool as lightning. But I think Azriel would be happy to teach you."

She was still staring down at the dagger and the scabbard when Azriel gently leaned down to murmur in her ear, "You like it?"

His voice was a low rumble that thrummed through her body, and she almost shivered at the sound.

Eira  didn't hate it. Not as much as she had thought she would. She wasn't quite sure if she wanted to learn to fight. But maybe she didn't need to. maybe she could just learn how to defend herself.

She could feel Azriel watching her closely, and she was sure that he could probably feel the tension in her body.

But she still nodded slightly in response to his question, her eyes fixed on the dagger and scabbard in her hands. And he seemed to get the message, resting his chin on her shoulder and giving her a small squeeze.

The scabbard had been made of fine, supple leather, polished and oiled to shine like satin. But the dagger itself was the real beauty. The slender obsidian blade was polished to a mirror-perfect gleam, and when she pulled the blade out to study it, she noticed the little lightning bolt patterns carved into the blade.

"Here," Azriel said quietly. "That Solstice Gift I owe you."

Eira was only mildly startled as his quiet voice drew her back out of her thoughts, and she blinked at him in surprise.

"You really don't-" she began, but Azriel just shook his head, the shadows swirling with excitement.

"I talked them out of buying you another 3 dozen gifts, but I still wanted to give you something," he told her gently.

Eira couldn't help but feel touched that he'd gone to such trouble, even if she had been firmly telling them not to make such a fuss.

She was still speechless as he pulled a small, silk-wrapped box out of his pocket, handing it to her with an almost nervous smile on his face.

"I thought..well...I...I thought that you could use more pearls," he finally said quietly.

Eira almost gaped at his words as she stared down at the gift in her hands, her heart clenching at the thought that he'd given her pearls.

She carefully unwrapped the gift, her hands shaking slightly as she opened the box and uncovered a King's ransom in Pearls and Diamonds. A Necklace, Bracelet and a set of Hair Combs, all laid tucked into black velvet.

"No Earrings, but everything else," he said quietly.

She was literally speechless as she stared at the jewelry, her heart stuttering in her chest.

It wasn't just the jewelry that stole her breath away, but the thought and care that Azriel had taken in creating it.

He'd given her pearls. Diamonds too, but the pearls just made her throat ache.

Pearls like these very first earrings, like her engagement ring...and now there they were, ready to encircle her throat and her wrist as well.

The pearls were perfect, flawless and shining under the light like they were made of living ice. They looked smooth to the touch and more flawless than anything she'd ever seen before.

"They're beautiful," she told him, her voice a little strangled as she stared down at them. "Azriel...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he told her as the shadows swooped around her, like they were eager to see the jewelry on her. "Do you like them?"

It was an oddly vulnerable question, and one that made her heart flutter in her chest.

"I love them."

[hunieday]

Yuki - 16PRODUCERS Rabbit Chat

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Momo: (Good morning... Momo from Re:vale here...)

Momo: (Today I’m at Yuki’s place early in the morning…. To have a very exceptional conversation... Okarin, can you hear me…)

Okazaki Rinto: Thank you for your hard work, Momo-kun! But what’s with the odd energy, it’s as if you’re playing a wake-up prank?

Momo: (I’m keeping the energy low since Yuki’s still stuck drifting in dreamland…)

Yuki: I’m sleepy

Momo: Kyaa! Yuki’s here in person!! Even sleepy Yuki is super handsome 😍✨

Momo: Yuki just got up from the sofa! 🥺🌟 Okariiiin! How are things going in the studio?

Okazaki Rinto: Yuki-kun, thanks for your hard work as well. So I’m supposed to be stationed in the studio?

Okazaki Rinto: The president walked out to attend a meeting just now, so it’s really quiet here. I just made some coffee!

Momo: You’re all set for the discussion!! And guess what, Yuki’s brewing some tea for us too! 😭 Such a gentleman...! 😭✨

Momo: Camera crew, zoom in closer‼️

Okazaki Rinto: There’s a camera crew?

Momo: I’m the camera crew!

Yuki: Momo brought two phones today for some reason.

Momo: Well yeah, since we’re gonna talk via rabbichat today I wouldn’t be able to capture your beautiful face otherwise!!! So I brought my spare phone to record you 😎😎

Yuki: How dedicated

Okazaki Rinto: How very dedicated.

Momo: Hey wait a sec, I just noticed while I was snapping pics but is your neck hurting, Yuki!?!?!?!?!?

Yuki: You caught me. I probably slept wrong.

Yuki: I fell asleep at the desk while I was composing and now I can’t turn my head to the right

Momo: Huhhhh!!!! Then I’ll sit on your right side to protect your neck!!

Yuki: Absolutely not. I won’t be able to see your face

Momo: Wait a sec,,,,,,

Momo: Yuki, aren’t you pulling the Super Darling gun a bit too early in the morning….being this beautiful should be illegal!?!?!? 😭😭

Yuki: Only for you, Momo.

Yuki: But what exactly are you protecting my neck from?

Momo: Oh you know, a stray baseball flying in from the right, or someone bumping into you and making you stumble!!

Yuki: That’s straight out of a manga.

Yuki: So what would you do if a water bucket came flying in from the left?

Momo: I’ll dash to block it and say something like “close call…”!!! lolololol

Momo: Wait, Yuki, why’s your manga knowledge so extensive!?!?

Yuki: Ruri-san made me read some when I visited your house.

Momo: What the hell is nee-san plotting lololololol

Yuki: It was pretty interesting.

Okazaki Rinto: I’m glad you seem to be enjoying yourselves over there! Now then, shall we get started?

Momo: Sorry Okarin lolololol we’re sitting across from each other and ready to start 🤩 

Okazaki Rinto: Good! They requested a laid-back, relaxed conversation for this, that’s why we’re doing it through rabbichat.

Okazaki Rinto: Let’s start with Yuki-kun, how did you feel when you heard that Momo-kun was going to produce your song?

Yuki: I was really happy of course. Momo always gives me energy with his warm words, so I was curious about what kind of melody he would give me through this production.

Yuki: Momo’s very good at conveying his feelings, so I always felt like he’d have a knack for creating music that resonates with people, something that lingers in their minds and stays in their hearts, warm and comforting.

Okazaki Rinto: I see…! That’s a perspective only someone who regularly composes music would have.

Momo: Oh you... You always make me happy with your words, Yuki 🥲

Momo: But to be honest, it was suuuuper stressful….

Yuki: Really? Even though “Can’t Stop Emotion” turned out amazing.

Momo: Yuki,,,,

Yuki: It’s tough, but also a lot of fun, right? Making music I mean.

Momo: Yeah. It was a lot of fun.

Momo: I didn’t fully compose the song myself since it was a team effort, so I didn’t fully understand everything you do but

Momo: Having to convey my feelings through something other than words and gestures was super difficult, but I was so happy. How do I explain it… I treasure that feeling!

Yuki: I can relate

Yuki: Whenever I’m working on a new song, I start cursing everything around me. I contemplate never working on anything like that ever again, quitting songwriting altogether. But when I’m finished and I hear Momo’s voice on the song, I realize that “ah, there’s no other job that could make me happier than this.”

Momo: Yuki,,,Can I sit next to you,,,,?

Yuki: This position is very comfortable.

Momo: Awwww ‼️ I got rejected 😭‼️

Okazaki Rinto: So Momo-kun, how did you decide on what direction to take amidst all your hard work?

Momo: First and foremost, I thought about what kind of Yuki I wanted to portray! Like the Yuki who’s not a morning person, the Yuki who’s super proactive when it counts, the Yuki who’s sensitive and overflowing with emotion, the Yuki who’s amazing at cooking, super into cleaning, who’s just a kind, dashing gentleman with a beautiful voice…

Momo: But at the end of the day, I wanted to shine the spotlight on Yuki’s passion for music. A quiet, calm, yet fiercely unwavering flame. I wanted to express that dignified strength and the freedom in his boundless music.

Momo: And that’s the reason why the intro is quiet and minimalistic, but as the chorus hits, the music bursts forth like it’s flying, flapping its wings, dancing, being set free, going on a journey! Those are the feelings that resonate within me when I listen to the music Yuki makes for me!

Yuki: You really put a lot of thought into this

Yuki: You have real talent, Momo

Momo: Huhhh???!!! you don’t have to flatter meee 😆 even though that makes me happy 😆✨

Yuki: I’m serious.

Momo: Y-You really made your point come across...

Okazaki Rinto: What on earth just happened over there?

Momo: Yuki sat down next to me 🥹🥹

Yuki: I made sure to face him from the side that doesn’t hurt.

Yuki: It’s just as you described, Momo. When I got the demo, I was moved by how the song felt like it was taking me on an ever-changing journey.

Yuki: I felt the same way I did the day you brought me out of that dark place, showing me so many new and different sides of this world.

Yuki: Maybe that’s why the song felt familiar to me.

Momo: You’re the one who changed my world, Yuki!

Momo: Back when I thought there was only one path for me, when I felt trapped and depressed, I came across the music you wrote.

Momo: It warmed my frozen body, frigid to the tips of my fingers, brought color back to my world, and filled me with the urge to move ahead, to be passionate about something.

Momo: I poured all those feelings from back then, how I feel now, as well as my desire for us to always stay at the top into the lyrics!

Yuki: I wouldn’t have been able to move forward if not for your words.

Yuki: I felt like giving up on everything at some point, I could’ve thrown it all away. But you’ve always been there to save me. That’s why it’s all for y-

Yuki: No

Yuki: Nevermind, I don’t think I can say that right now, but I will tell you this

Yuki: "Can’t Stop Emotion" will be my treasure, always and forever.

Yuki: Stay by my side and keep singing with me, Momo. You’re the absolute king, unparalleled by anyone.

Momo: Okay,,,

Momo: A long, heartfelt message from Yuki,,,I’m eating so well,,,

Okazaki Rinto: What a wonderful day for you two to be honest with each other. I’ll keep supporting Re:vale forever and beyond!

Okazaki Rinto: Alright, can you please tell us more about the costume?

Momo: Sure!!! First of all, Yuki’s like a snow fairy who descended upon us during winter, so I pictured the stars shining brightly in the clear winter night sky 🪄🧚‍♂️☃️

Yuki: A fairy, huh?

Momo: You’re such a beautiful fairy that your face stands out amidst the clashing patterns! I wanted to show off your gorgeous sex appeal, that’s why I decided to express that with a variety of intricate patterns💫

Momo: And then I added chiffon material to the jacket to evoke the image of the starry sky, with scattered, shiny silver details all over, paired it with slim-fit pants to accentuate Yuki’s figure and balance the outfit for a sharp, smart look!! 💫

Yuki: Your fingers move so fast when you’re talking about me that it’s impressive

Momo: Well I am talking about Yuki after all 👍👍

Okazaki Rinto: Thank you for the passionate explanation! What about the details in the photoshoot itself?

Momo: Didn’t it look like a snow fairy had descended!? 🪄🧚‍♂️☃️ I really wanted to make it snow for real, but I didn’t want Yuki to feel cold, I was thinking about what to do and then it hit me…

Momo: Why not use light to represent that snow!? And that’s how we got Yuki, sparking gorgeously like the handsome man he is 🌟

Yuki: Everything was dazzling for real 

Momo: That’s how much Yuki shines in my eyes! From the first time we met until now! Forever and always!!

Yuki: Really? You’re always shining bright, Momo.

Momo: For real!? 🥹 Then we can always enjoy that light together 🎄

Yuki: That’s true ^^

Okazaki Rinto: It’s Christmas, so that works perfectly!

Momo: I love how you’re always watching from a distance without interrupting when we’re like this, Okarin 🥹

Okazaki Rinto: I’m flattered! As much as I’d love to see more of your shenanigans, it’s time for you to say a few words to your fans…!

Momo: "Can’t Stop Emotion" is like a selfish wish of mine. It doesn’t portray the gentle, idol-like Yuki. Instead fully expressing my admiration, my love for him, my passion and my promise to keep going as the kings.

Momo: So, I hope our fans listen to this song and continue supporting us, forever and ever. We’ll fly towards the miracle waiting for us tomorrow!

Yuki: Momo called it “a selfish song”, so I want everyone to know how elated I am and how tremendously important it is to me that Momo’s being this selfish.

Yuki: And I feel so much more determined now that this song has been gifted to me. I’ll continue to be the absolute champion, together with Momo. And I hope all of you will follow us.

Yuki: Thanks to Momo, I’ve rediscovered the joy of creating music. I know what it’s like to push through everything to go on, to aim higher and higher. That’s why Re:vale is invincible.

Yuki: There’s no one greater than us, is there? Let’s move towards the future we want to see with you, with everyone.

Momo: Yuukiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Yuki: Momo’s crying now.

Okazaki Rinto: Maybe he’s still hung up on the fact that you couldn’t wipe his tears last time!? (1)

Yuki: Today’s a Re:valeful day, so come over when you’re done, Okarin.

Okazaki Rinto: What do you have in mind?

Momo: Oh yeah, we’re gonna rewatch all our past live performances! We’re gonna reminisce over drinks! (๑>؂•̀๑)👍

Yuki: It felt like the right time to reflect on everything we’ve done so far, especially fresh off producing songs for each other.

Okazaki Rinto: Is it really okay for me to intrude on such a special day...?

Momo: Of course! Re:vale’s journey would be incomplete with you, Okarin!

Yuki: Re:vale’s what it is because you’re here with us.

Okazaki Rinto: Thank you so much! I’ll bring something tasty with me!!

Momo: Hell yeah! Then, let’s chat until morning!! 🥳

(1)This is a reference to Momo’s 16PRODUCERS Rabbit chat.

[harrysmimi]

Enchanted To Meet You

Synopsis: One where YN is a hopeless romantic and she writes a song about certain fast race-car driver she met at Cannes.

More of my work

YN has been in this industry her whole life.

She have always hated these big events. Yes she tried her best to avoid certain events, parties and even press conference.

She started acting when she was just five years old, continued till she was sixteen and dropped to continue with her studies. Her and her family moved back to their home country from The States so that her and her siblings could focus on their studies more. She recently made a come back with a few movies and own album, one of her movie was supposed to be premiered at Cannes this year.

So YN went there. Her movie premiere went as well as expected.

She was at the after party dinner. No one would trust her when she said she hated being at these places. She hated people with fake smiles and hated the forced laughs there. She sat there at the bar with her favourite drink not even bothering to take a sip from it. She tried so hard not to get caught up with her phone again. It's been her coping mechanism since she got her first phone ever. She was tired of the lonely place these parties were and always have been for her.  YN could hear charters around her and people order alcohol.

She was approached by one of the directors present at the party and she got caught up with the conversation half heartedly. There she saw a pair of brown eyes glancing at her from afar as he spoke with someone else. All dolled up in a classic black suit. This went on for about fifteen minutes. Throughout the conversation with this director all she could do is wonder where she has seen him. He seemed to be doing the same. YN always remembered faces she had seen around, that was her super power.

Finally the director took his leave as someone called from him. YN let out a not-so-subtle sigh and glanced at her phone. All that man talked about was nothing but insincere promises of him casting her in one of his movies. She still hasn't gotten a job without auditioning, like ever.

She picked up her phone to call her driver to ask to bring out the car so she could go to the hotel and pack up to leave to go home. That's when she saw a slim silhouette approaching her. These are the times she hated the most too, not having her glasses on her so at least her vision is not blurry in the dimly lit room. She doesn't feel comfortable wearing contacts. He was maybe six feet away from her when she saw those familiar eyes again. The same look as before as he must be trying to reminisce where they met.

YN remembered his name all of a sudden. Her brother spoke about him, he was into F4 and was competition on a national level at home. Whilst she doesn't understand the sport and has just enough interest to support her baby brother, she knew his last name and that was a F1 driver (she thinks she is not quite sure) and he drives for Scuderia Toro Rosso.

YN felt her heart skip a beat and her throat going dry, she took a big gulp on her drink she had been carrying around the whole night.

"Hi, YN right?" He spoke with a heavy accent.

"Yeah." She smiled politely, trying to be nonchalant while wiping the corners of her lips with her finger tips.

"I am Carlos, nice to meet you." He approached her with a handshake which she reciprocated rather nicely. She was in no mood to socialise today, but she felt the sudden need to, because it was Carlos. "Do you mind if I...?" He pointed at the seat in front of her which was empty.

"Yeah go ahead. It is not taken." She assured him, "it's nice to meet you too Carlos."

"Thank you." He flashed her a dimpled smile, "I was there at the premiere of your movie. You did an amazing job, saw your other two movies too. My mom loved it so much!"

"Oh thank you, that means so much to me!" Her heart melted, she genuinely felt so happy when people liked her work, she loves doing it, she loves acting and singing so much. It warmed her heart with the love she receives from her fans. "Thank you so much for saying that! My brother actually talks about you a lot. He is in F4 now himself."

"Oh that's amazing." He was quite surprised.

"Yeah, he is very close to being a national champion." She bragged about her baby brother rightfully so. "He is a huge fan of yours."

"Oh please say Hi to him from me."

"I will." They heard people going crazy in the crowd as some party music started playing. "Someone is going to throw up there." She said finally took a sip of her drink.

"Oh!" Carlos sounded in disgust as someone actually threw up. "How did you know?"

"I'm a psychic." She smiled cheekily.

They both day there in a moment of silence (not really silent). "So have you taken your brother to any of the grand prix?"

"No not really." She shrugged, "He has been to a few himself though. I don't understand the sport much, but I try, for him. I mean I just have one baby brother I have to support him."

"You'll get used to it." Carlos assured her.

"Oh I really hope I do." She smiled sheepishly. "This is more boring than last year right?"

"Couldn't tell, this is my first time. I am attending in the middle of the season actually. I have race next week."

"Oh nice." She nodded and got awkward real quick. YN never learnt to be extroverted having spent all her life in this industry, she still hates talking to new people. Especially if they are famous. But this was different, He actually made an effort to get to know her.

They spent the next two hours talking and having a great laugh, she was on her third and last drink of the night. Carlos was actually pretty funny. YN wouldn't lie to herself that she had a bit of a celebrity crush on Carlos since her brother started to talk about him.

YN was in the middle of sharing a funny incident with him which happened on sets when Carlos noticed everyone was on the dance floor whilst a soft song played along. She looked around as she watched couples taking the floor. He looked at her for a beat.

"Do you want to dance with me?" He asked, offering her his hand. She placed her empty glass on the bar table, with a slight shrug of her shoulder she accepted his offer placing her hand in his.

Carlos was quick to guide to the floor, whilst YN was busy watching how small her hand looked holding his. His hand was warm and his grip was gentle yet firm enough that the hold wouldn't break as they made their way through the crowd.

Finally he picked a spot, it was still in the corner of the room. He stood in front of her as he placed the hand he was holding onto his shoulder already swaying to the soft music. He slipped his hand onto her waist pulling her just a tad bit closer.

"Is this okay?" He asked as he held onto her free hand.

"Mhmm." She nodded, completely mystified there.

YN was surprised by the fact how tall he was and she was wearing heels. His eyes looked even more dreamy in the dimmer lights. It was doing something to her, especially with three drinks in her system fully settled in and his hand on her back brushing on her skin softly. His hair looked bouncier, making her resist even more from running her fingers through them. Before she knew they were practically hugging each other, with her arm wrapped around his neck now.

We'll the moment was short lived for YN when the DJ decided to change up the music to something upbeat. "I think he hates slow songs." She muttered under her breath.

"I agree." He whispered back in her ear, feeling her pull herself but back he finally got to look at her.

"I, umm... I-" she was interrupted by her manager Joel there.

"Sorry to interrupt, YN, you have a flight in the morning to catch." He reminded her.

"Oh yeah." She remembered that she'd got a full packed schedule tomorrow.

"I'll get the car for you." He said as he left, shaking quick hands with Carlos.

"I am sorry about that." She shrugged, "I have to be at three table readings tomorrow."

"That's fine. It was nice meeting you YN." He smiled softly.

"Nice meeting you too Carlos." She said as she carefully and reluctantly stepped aside letting go of his hand.

She had to leave to too soon.

YN was bummed when she realised neither of them asked to exchange numbers.

The drive back to the hotel was long, but not long enough that she could relive the time spent. She seemed to really like him. He was very considerate of what he shared and how he spoke.

She was finally in bed all showered up.

It then hit her. What if he is seeing someone? Well, why would he ask her to dance if he was? Maybe it was being polite?

She could just wish. "Please don't be in love with someone!" She groaned as she turned on her tummy to wonder even more.

.........................................................................

It was maybe around six months later, Carlos was sitting in his living room. It was spring break, back home with his family.

That was when he got a link through text from his sister, it was a YouTube video.

It was YN. It was a Jimmy Kimmel interview of hers promoting her new movie on a press tour with her co-star Henry Cavill. He was sat next to her as she answered her questions revealing one question at a time.

"YN apart from this, we see that one of your original songs is in the movie... It's... It's called Enchanted." Jimmy asked with a cheeky smile as the crowd went wild at his question, "...so my question is, who is it about?" She looked at her co-star nervously.

"Should I tell them?" She looked at Henry.

"If you want to yeah." Henry just shrugged.

"Oh yeah Henry that helps!" She exclaimed sarcastically, "but no, on a serious note it's about a guy I met at an after party at this film festival. I have a huge crush on him, so I just went home and wrote it." She explained with dramatic hands.

"Who is the song about, do you want to share that or we'll just cut this out?" Jimmy asked.

"It is about Carlos Sainz, he is an F1 driver." She revealed sheepishly. "Well, I believe his name is actually Carlos Sainz Jr., yeah. But turns out he is taken though, that's quiet a bummer."

Carlos in that moment was over the moon. He had been crushing on her since he saw her in that one movie she starred in with Julia Roberts. This sent him through the seventh sky.

As she mentioned he is taken.

He then later found out that she was already following him on Instagram while he has been following her for longer.

.........................................................................

It was yet another race week.

He saw the face he had been seeing all over his Instagram at the Paddock. She was at the McLaren garage. She was talking to Fernando and showing him something on her phone, or maybe she was on facetime.

Carlos was busy with quali prep.

It made him nervous seeing her there. He took in a deep breath as he got into his Renault. Somewhere in him, he wanted to give his two hundred percent extra just so he could impress her.

He did decently by the end of quali.

After the team discussion Carlos heads back to his. It was a long day.

He just scrolled through his Instagram to see what fun memes his fans are posting now, when he saw a message pop up on his notification bar. It made his heart race faster than his car.

YNofficial replied to your story

The message was sent just maybe twenty seconds ago and Carlos found himself clicking on it immediately. He cursed at him for that.

- Hey, I was at the qualifying race today. You did amazing! 👏

He was grinning, he realised as he felt his cheeks aching now. He liked the message and quickly typed in  reply.

- Thank you!

He saw the little bubble move on the bottom left corner of his screen immediately.

- Hope to see you tomorrow! Had to rush back for work. Best of luck for the race!

- Hope to see you too.

He sent that message and she read it. Was that too much or a Thank You again would have worked? He didn't know why he was stressing out so much.

Carlos was excited for the next day though, more so to meet YN. Hopefully.

....................................................................

The next day YN did not arrive at the Paddock. She had to cancel last minute due to some family emergency. She had to take the next flight back home as her mum was rushed to the ICU and nothing was more important to her than her mum.

Carlos on the other hand waited until he had to get in his car and drive. He was not aware of her situation, it definitely made him upset.

But it was easier for him to move on with the celebration for the night.

A year later YN was back at the Jimmy Kimmel show to promote the sequel to her movie with Henry Cavill and her album with Enchanted was just released too. She performed the song at the show. The interview was coming to an end there.

"So do you remember the way we discussed this song a year ago and your album is finally out." Jimmy started.

"Yes, it is finally out. It was set to be released last year but I had to push it forward." YN admitted.

"Yeah, how you mentioned it is about someone very special." Jimmy flashed the same cheeky smile as they played the video on the big screen which made YN laugh.

"Yeah, it is, it is." She said shaking her head.

"We'll, we have one last surprise for you." Jimmy said. "Come on out Carlos!" He exclaimed as he got up from his seat.

YN felt her heart jump to her mouth with that announcement as she slowly stood up too, just to be hit by realisation to see a crew bring out a life size cardboard cut of him in his race suit. The crowd went ballistic at her reaction, even Henry was laughing his arse off.

"Oh my god you scared me!" YN yelled over the noise of the crowd and laughed till her eyes got watery as the crew placed the cut out right next to her. "Oh my goodness!" She tried to gather herself with her hands on her aching cheeks and wiping her tears off. There was another cut out of him placed net to her this time he was wearing a suite.

"Stop it you guys!" She laughed even harder.

That's when the crowd started going ballistic again as it was another cut out of the racer in a crisp suit. The whole interview the cut outs stayed out.

...........................................................

Flash forward to a few years alter.

It was the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix week. YN was there was quite a few events to attend. She was also invited by McLaren again to attend the finale race. She also had the final show of her tour there on Monday after the race.

YN has no shifted to being a singer more than being in movies as it was more manageable for her, her solo albums were doing fantastically and she was also writing and composing for Hindi movies. She was doing fairly well now that she has been out of a relationship which lasted three years and she was almost engaged. The breakup did took a toll on her mental health but now she has been finding herself back on track slowly. She has found herself a home in Madrid, which is turning out to be very nice for her mental peace. She has been finding new ventures to explore, she has started her own Jewellery line now.

On the race day, YN made sure to go see Carlos. Well, they have become good acquaintances over the last few years.

"Hi, so nice to meet you." YN greeted Frédéric at the garage, it was pretty chaotic there in that moment. She as told that they have just gotten out of a team meat and she didn't quite understand what her manger told her after that, but all she knew that she was meeting the boss. She still has a lot to learn about the sport. The next person she met was Charles, they spoke about some general stuff, work mostly. Charles told her how he have found few of her songs fitting into his music taste.

It was finally when Carlos came out all ready and dressed up in his race suit, half of it hanging off his hips. He was quite surprised to her there.

"Carlos!" Charles announced. "Meet YN!" He had a bit of teasing lilt in his tone

"Hi," he grinned as he approached her.

"Hi." YN seemed a bit nervous to see him. Well a crush is never crushed even after years sometimes. Carlos went for a hug and she for a hand shake, which ended in an awkward mix of a hand shake and a side hug. Charles took the queue and excused himself to go discuss some things with the engineers.

"It's nice to see you after so long." Carlos started off the conversation and they stood there for maybe five minutes when he offered to show her around. "I have some time till I have to go."

"Are you sure?" She asked, "you don't have any debriefs before the race, right? If you guys have that concepts? Sorry still learning about the sport."

"We do have that concept but we still have time." He chuckle softly. He showed her around the garage and the car which was being prepared there. Soon it was time for Carlos to get his radio fixed and get in the car.

"It was so nice to see you again, Carlos. All the best for the race!" This time she gave him a hug, which lingered a few seconds longer than she anticipated for it to last for.

"Thank you!" He had to let go of her reluctantly.

...........................................................

YN stayed till end this time.

The whole time she was rooting for Carol to win even though she was invited there by McLaren. She was jumping like a fan when he secured P2.

Well, she was literally wearing red, it was pretty clear which team she was supporting actually. Especially since she has got a Ferrari herself now.

She even stayed after the podium ceremony too. Hoping to see him and congratulate him in person.

"Hi!" She chirped when she saw him finally, giving him yet another hug. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you so much!" He hugged her back with equal amount of excitement.

"You killed it out there!" She chuckled pulling away from their hug, she saw Charles approaching them as well. "Hey, congratulations to you too!"

"Thank you so much!" They shared a hug too. "Do you wanna come celebrate with us?"

"Oh thank you so much for the invite, but I will have to pass this time. I have a show tomorrow and I have to be up early for sound checks." She said politely.

"Oh no that's okay." Charles assured her, "all the best for your show tomorrow."

"Oh thank you!" She smiled. "It was nice meeting you guys again. Have a blast at the party."

"Nice meeting you too, YN." Charles spoke again. Carlos just stood there, glancing at his shoes every now and then.

YN left. She was spotted by some fans heading out, so she was stuck there for a while. She was talking to them and taking pictures. When she finally got to her ride back to her hotel which was parked right at the VIP exit she heard her name called out.

It was Carlos. Now dressed up in a casual outfit there, his hair still a beautiful mess. "Hi." He jogged to her.

"Hi." She stopped as she was just about to get in the cars, she got out and closed the door.

"Hi." He said again, "I already said that..."

She hummed out a soft chuckle, "yes you did."

"I want to ask if you are free after Monday?" He approached with caution on this topic.

"Yeah, I am actually. I do have an event to attend later the same week." She said, still confused of where this conversation might go, as far she knew he has a girlfriend.

"If you don't mind I would like to take you out on lunch?" He asked politely and the smile on her face vanished.

"Carlos..." she whispered, "I, I, I-"

"It's fine if you don't want to." He interrupted her.

"No, I, I, I mean, I, I thought you're already seeing someone." She stuttered.

"No, I haven't been seeing anyone." He simply shrugged, he did get where her hesitation came from. "It's been a year actually."

"Oh." YN let out a soft breath of relief. She wouldn't like to be involved in a cheating scandal when she was cheated on by her ex-almost-fiancé. "Yeah, then you can." She smiled again finally.

"Can I get your number so we can plan?" He nervously asked to which she agreed. Thu exchanged their numbers.

...........................................................

It was way after their initial plan for the lunch as YN was caught up with more last minute work. Even Carlos had some work with his new team. It wasn't until the mid December they got to meet again.

YN was at her home in Madrid for a solo vacation a like she planned at the start of the year. But they finally planned a date.

Yes, Carlos called it a date. A lunch date.

YN had planned a cute little outfit. It was white maxi dress and a few jewellery pieces from her own jewellery line. A cute little black bow holding her hair out of her face at the back of her head in an half up and half down and a pink lip to tie everything together. She wore a pair of sneakers as she was done wearing heels for the year.

It was nice and lowkey and local restaurant Carlos picked. Very calm and peaceful.

He looked gorgeous as always. In a crisp white button down shirt, beige trousers and brown pair of loafers. His hair still gorgeous.

"Hi." She greeted him.

"Hello!" He beamed. "Have a seat." He pulled a chair for her like a true gentleman and took a seat himself. "How have you been?"

"Oh good, busy but good. Thank you for asking!" She smiled. "What about you? How was the testing of new car?"

"Oh it's going good. We are working to improve it for the next season." Carlos started and soon they were approached by a waiter with the menu. "What would you like for a drink, red or white?"

"Oh no, I am fine with water. Still working on a few things, I don't drink when I am working." She declined his offer politely.

"Oh that's fine then." He smiled and called for the waiter and asked for just water who only seemed to speak Spanish and YN was subconscious about her abilities to speak the language.

"Can you order for me please?" She whispered leaning forward. "My Spanish is not at all good..."

He giggled, "of course I can!"

"Stop! I should have at least learned a few sentences before moving here!" She whined, "the only sentence I know is Hola, Soy Dora. Oh I hated that show growing up!" That made him laugh even more, her impression was spot on.

"Hey, at least you have a start." He could hold back his laugh. "Why did you hate the show?"

"Oh my manager at the time was a Satan's sister! She wouldn't let me watch order cartoons which I loved while I was on sets in between takes!" She rolled her eyes. "She thought the order shows were very disruptive."

"But you know one sentence in Spanish." He teased making her scoff in faux frustration.

"I am learning though. I am on day three of my Duo Lingo course." She laughed herself.

They had a great time together. They talked about their interests and Carlos taught YN some new terms in the sports. She shared she is on a hiatus for a year now and that she will not be working unless she feels urge to write new music, she will be just spending time by herself. Carlos shared what are his plans for Christmas with his family.

Alas he drove her back to her place as she mentioned she took a can to the restaurant.

“Here it is.” YN announced as they reached her house. “Thank you for taking me to lunch. I had great time.”

“Thank you for going out with me.” He smiled, “come on I’ll walk you to your door.”

YN did not deny his gesture. “Oh do you wanna come in for a cup of Chai?” She asked just to quickly retract her question. “Oh yes you’re coming in for a Chai.” She looked for her keys in her bag.

“Sure.”

“Oh just be aware I have three cats here with me. It’s time for their usual zoomies.” She gave him the subtle warning.

“No worries.” He smiled and waited for her to open the door.

As soon as she opened the door he saw two cats play fighting on the sofa and one drinking water from the little flower fountain.

“Tyson, Benji no!” YN shooed her cats away while she threw her purse on her coffee table. “Please have a seat I’ll get the Chai on the stove and get you water.”

Carlos waited for her patiently while she brought over two cups of tea and a teeny tiny bowl of sugar for him along with the tea, and a few snacks.

They chatted even more the topics ranging from sharing their vacation stories to talking about Formula 1 to talking about their favourite TV shows. Carlos found himself spending almost all of his evening there. Her cats were clung to him, she did mentioned they are all very friendly and aren’t scared of new people. To his dismay was so late she was insisting him to stay for dinner, like true Indian she is.

But he had to leave as she had a jam packed schedule the next day.

“Thank you for having me over and tea and snacks.” He mentioned as she walked him to the door.

“Mhmm.” She nodded as she watched him open the door. “Carlos?”

“Yeah?” He looked at her.

“Can we do this again?” She asked with a sheepish look on her face.

“Why not!” He smiled. She approached him for a hug which he gladly accepted.

“Please do text me when you safely reach home.” She insisted.

“I will.” He agreed as he reluctantly pulled away to look at her. “Is it fine if I kiss you?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. It did take him long to press his lips on hers in a gentle lingering kiss.

“I will text you.” He mumbled with his forehead on hers.

“Mhmm,” he sounded. They shared one more kiss before he was headed out and she shut the door.

She has a second date with him!

[hazelfoureyes]

Someone nice, Somewhere safe

Angel x Virgin Male Reader

જ⁀➴ Angel x Virgin Female Reader - Someone nice, Somewhere safe*

*same story, just your bits and bobbles are changed 

You let it slip to the group you were a virgin, and instead of laughing, Angel grabs you before bed to offer a friendly hand.

<Warnings/Promises: Angel Dust x Virgin Male!Reader, smut, fingering, lubed to the gods, Angel uses four arms, Valentino is a blind bag of smashed assholes, creampie, oral, the gentlest sex I’ve ever written (probably), an alarming towel>

listen here virgins, if I could craft a perfect first time for you, this is it. Minus the lack of condoms because—it’s hell? Sex workers are tested bi-weekly?? This is still a fantasy??? Just if anything, please take from this the importance of a safe and trusting environment at all times 🙏  

minor dni (shoo! get outta here! Go on, git! 🧹)

You thought everyone would laugh when you said you were a virgin. The group awe’d and said it was cute, which was definitely better than the response you’d gotten in the overworld. But when Angel made a joke that your toys must be worn to the base, you felt the need to clarify. Total virgin, never used toys or your hands for, you cringed, penetration. Everyone just looked… sad? The conversation was quickly derailed by Angel launching into a list of wildest orgasm faces he’s seen, Charlie leaving the room entirely.

Continuing with the evening’s theme of surprise, you hadn’t expected Angel to catch up to you when everyone was filing off to bed. His hand gently reached for your wrist, “Hey ya got a sec?”

 For Angel, the epitome of smiling through the pain, you’d give him the remainder of your time in hell if he just asked. Every second, his.“Always!”

“So uh”, he rubbed the back of his neck, “about bein’ a virgin and all that.” Your stomach dropped, was the famous porn star about to embarrass you into a second death?“I think it’s real important that like— knowin’ yourself, and what makes you feel good is like super healthy. I dunno if you are interested in that kinda stuff but,” he was wildly moving his hands round, nervously stumbling over his words, “I’d be happy to help ya out.”

All of the blood rushed to your face.

“Oh fuck!” Angel grabbed your head and tipped it forward, “I would have accepted a simple no, jesus!” With one hand pinching your nose, he led you into his room just down the hall. 

What— what was happening, exactly? At all? In general? With your entire existence?

He kicked the door closed behind him and grabbed a handful of tissues, “Keep your head forward. Everyone who says tilt it back is an idiot.”

His hand was red when he drew it from your face, using his other hand to now hold tissues between his fingers as he pinched your nose shut.

“Is- is my nose bleeding??” Your voice cracked.

“Does that happen often?”

“Never.”

“Well I got to help you with at least one first, right?” Angel laughed, moving his hands away as you took over the task.

Oh, right. The offer. You glanced around the room, small but lived-in. Everything was pink and purple and soft.

“Angel, do you think because you’re a sex worker, you have to help me?” The room fell silent. Angel completely still beside you. You would love someone you could trust to take your virginity, but you would never want to use Angel like so many other people did on a daily basis.

“Ya know— a lot of people get real confused about this.” He sighed, chest heavy with the many misconceptions others had, “What I do for work, what I gotta do to get through the day, has nothin’ to do with who I am as a person.” You turned to look at him, “Why should I limit my experiences because of what other people have done to me?” The words hit you like a truck. You had unintentionally boxed him into his job, in turn into his trauma, summing him up as a warm body and incapable of any depth past that. Just a sex worker.

“No, no I didn’t mean anything like that. I just, I don’t want to ever,” you grabbed two of his hands, “ever take advantage of your kindness.” You squeezed, “or any part of you.”

His frown turned up, “We’re dead, yea, but you still exist. If you want to, you should enjoy every part of your afterlife. And I’d hate you to meet some asshole who’s too rough or doesn’t get ya warmed up first. A bad first time can be really traumatizin’.”

You nodded without actually thinking. Your brain wasn’t really processing meaning, his words were just soft and kind and your nose still stuffed full of tissue.

“Do you wanna?”

You nodded more vigorously, “Did my nose start bleeding again?”

Angel took the tissue away, giving a second to see, “Nope.”

Taking a deep breath, you said, “Okay. Yeah, I want that. Someone nice, somewhere safe.”

“It ain’t quite nice but-,” Angel looked around his room.

“It’s perfect, Angel.”

“Aw fuck, I should clean up,” he hurriedly carried trash from his nightstand, flattening out the comforter and adjusting his pillows. He placed fat nuggets on the floor with a little pat on the head.

Finally, he stood in front of you, two hands on his hips, two gesturing to you.

“Alright baby! Let’s pop some cherries! Undress~” he elongated the word, shimmying his hips a little, “-to your comfort level.” He began to unbutton his blazer, “Bare minimum, take off your pants and underwear, please and thank you. Though I have fucked through underwear…” He was momentarily lost in a memory.

You hadn’t anticipated getting naked in front of a friend tonight. But Angel so effortlessly shed his clothes, peeling off his gloves. Pulling off your pants, you paused.

“Is it weird if I keep my shirt on? Like— do you know who Winnie the Pooh is?”

“Nothin’ weird about bein’ comfortable, pookie.” He pinched your cheek, “I’d offer a modesty blanket but I kinda need to see what I’m doing.” His eyes flitted to the left, “No, wanna. I wanna see.” Angel’s laugh relaxed you, the idea of anyone wanting to see you made you feel a little less—-naked. Still, your hands seemed frozen on your underwear’s edge.

With a hum, he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel. “Go on, lie down. I’ll help ya relax. This is already feeling too medical-like.”

Were you going to need a towel? Were you going to need a towel?? Were you going to need a towel!?

You sat back on his bed, and when he crawled up to meet you, all legs and arms and Angel Dust, you buried your face in your hands.

“Oh hey—,” his voice was so soft, lacking its usual sass, “Wanna just, cuddle and watch stupid shit on my phone?” You groaned, face sinking further down. This would be easier if he wasn’t so sweet. You could at least take a backseat, then.

You shook your head, and felt his hand on your ankle. It snaked up your calf, slipped down your knee and thigh, finding the waistband of your underwear. When you looked up from your hiding place, Angel was a foot from your face. His features lit only by the purple neon signs hanging beside his bed and near the door. He lifted his brows, a question he didn’t need to vocalize. You sank back into the purple and pink pillows, different sizes, different textures, gently enveloping you.

With two hands now, he slide off your underwear. You might die, again. Your heart would give out any second, incapable of handling the moment. You were manually breathing.

He lifted your hips with two hands, a third sliding the towel beneath you before setting you back down.

“Do ya-,” he was rummaging now inside the nightstand drawer, “not play with yourself? Ever?”

“Not really. Not like, there.”

“Whaddya do with all your free time?” His short but enthusiastic laughter forced a smile to your cheeks. Angel slid the drawer shut and came to rest in front of your tightly shut thighs and knees. You heard a cap pop, and found the courage to sit up and see what he was doing.

“What?” He squeezed a clear, thick lubricant onto his right hand, “Don’t let anyone tell you ya don’t need lube. No fun for no one, trust me. Could start a fuckin’ fire—- and spit ain’t lube!” Angel said it like he spoke from a personal experience.

Ah, the towel. That made sense now.

“Should I do something?”

“Just lie back, baby~,” he opened your knees and followed your face as you settled back down, “Do you like kissin’?”

You’d kiss a trashcan if Angel said it got him hot, so, “Yeah.”

“Good,” One hand touched your cheek, sliding to your chin as he brought your lips to his. You thought you’d melt, his hands so soft on you, lips confident and sure. He used his thumb on your chin to pull down your bottom lip and ask you for entrance. When you opened up to him, his tongue slid into yours as his sticky wet hand finally touched you. Two fingers rubbing the lube up and down your ass.

You nearly inhaled him with your shock, he giggled into it, “You’re so cute.” You twitched under his hand, “Ooh, and reactive! Daddy likes.”

Stop. Stop talking. I’m going to black out.

His mouth returned to yours, tongue over your tongue, as his fingers just massaged your entrance. No attempt at entering, no prodding, just gentle up and down motions. Slowly, your felt your skin heating beneath his hand, the lubricant somewhat melting with your warmth.

At work, Angel was never the lead. Never the top, and never afforded time to ease anyone open. He had no issues with topping, it just wasn’t his normal role. Watching you sigh and twitch under him felt like a treat. Such a sweet response to what so many people made unnecessarily dirty at work. He wasn’t shocked to find his cock twitching, swelling as your breathing hitched with every stroke of his hand. When was the last time he could just… slow down? Be the one in control? Not control like Val, control like—- can I get you a pillow? Is the pacing good? Let’s soften these lights.  Hold my hand, sweetheart.

His head felt a little dizzy. His middle finger pressed now, and with a slow but constant motion entered you. ‘Uncomfortable’ was the best word. Your body tensed around him, but he gently pressed past your virgin walls. He hummed, “First one down! Atleast,” he paused, “two more to go.”

“Atleast??” You shook your head.

“It’s sex math, trust the professional in the room.” He withdrew the finger and slid it back in, starting a slow pace of long drags from knuckle to fingertip.

It didn’t hurt, to his credit. The excitement of having Angel touching you so intimately made the finger easier to relax into. Angel must have noticed, his finger leaving you. He popped the top again of his lube and pressed in two fingers. This was harder. You whined, his fingertips pushing past the tight ring of muscle and settling into the wet warmth behind.

Lying on your back, you stared at the now upside-down photos behind his bed. He looked so happy. Could you join that wall? Was this wall worthy?

“You still good?” He leaned over you, fingers  moving.

You nodded, “Can I have another kiss?”

Ah, you might as well have punched him in the chest. “Of course, darlin’~ Ask and you shall receive.” You liked kissing, genuinely, but were always scared you’d kiss someone too long and end up in an awkward situation having to explain you weren’t wanting sex. But that fear was all gone, you’d broken the code. Get naked first, then kiss.

You smiled into his mouth, and he smiled back, “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“I like kissing you.” You leaned up, pressing your lips to his chin. His fingers quickened, and you moaned without warning. You felt your cock twitch, erection growing as nervousness was slinking away and finally letting you feel aroused.

“Ooh, now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” he leaned back, repeating the same steps and trying to press a third finger into you. His abundance of hands were a blessing, one at your entrance, one on your knee to keep your shaking legs open, and two roaming down the sides of your body. When three fingers finally entered, you could feel the burning stretch of your skin around them. He pushed in, and the skin followed. He pulled out, your sensitive hole pulling too. The hand on your knee came to your crotch, his palm pressing lightly down on your growing erection. You glanced up to him, his eyes focused as he watched his fingers slowly drag in and out of you. It burned still, but just past that burning was a slippery sensation that made your cock jump under his hand.

He let his fingers sink in entirely, before bending and feeling inside you. Your knee jumped when he hit something.

“Bingo! Say hello to your g-spot.” He beamed down at you, gold tooth shining, “You don’t really need it to cum but oooh boooy does it maximize pleasure,” it sounded so pornographic when he said it.

You weakly copied, “B-bingo.” 

“I can do this now~” he replaced his palm with his fingers,  sticky with lube, and they wrapped around your cock. His hand slowly pumped up and down your shaft. “Sex math. Don’t need your virgin ass locking up on me.” He said quietly to himself, fingers in and out of you picking up speed. Your head was pressing into the pillows as your neck strained, you’d never masturbated while someone, something, penetrated you. Every stroke of his hand made your body clench, the feeling of something hard and unforgiving pushing back against your quivering hole made a pleasure you couldn’t describe.

“Feelin’ good yet?” The way he said it, he knew damn well how you were feeling.

You whimpered into one of the pillows, “Feels good.” A weak nod.

Angel’s grin bordered on wicked, hand slowing. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your cock head. Then another. His tongue flattened against his bottom lip as he dragged it over your sensitive slit.

You moaned, a half spoken-half cried, “Oh fuck, Angel-.” Hips bucking up, his fingers kept their place and followed. You humped up against his tongue, ground down into his fingers; up, down. Soft tongue, rigid fingers.

“You can fuck my face, baby,” He opened his mouth, tongue out, and looked up at you from your stomach. “I ain’t got a gag reflex anymore, popsicles slide in like— well, cocks.” He lowered his mouth onto you, leaving room for you to move. His fingers slowed in you.

You thrust up slowly, testing the sensation. His mouth closed around you, tongue moving along you shaft as you rutted into his face.

One hand held tightly to the pillow, the other coming to Angel’s hair. Your body kept jumping away from overstimulation but you fought against it every time and tried to grind against his face.

His fingers slipped out of you, your body closing back around the space where they were. That feeling of your hole tightening made you hungry for his fingers to spread you back open. His hand came to cup your balls, feeling the weight in his palm.

He lifted his mouth off you with a deliberate pop, “Gettin’ close already?” You nodded, eyes closed. “Ready for the real thing?”

“Yeah. I need more, Angel.” It came out as a whine, shocking you a little.

His hand came to his erection, red and leaking. Stroking himself, he returned to massaging at your puffy and swollen entrance.

“You comfortable with gettin’ on your knees? This position ain’t so conducive for what I’m tryin’ to do.”

Somehow, ass up sounded better than face to face, “You’re the expert.” You rolled onto your stomach, hips up, face resting into the sea of pillows. You paused, lifted off your now sweaty shirt, and got back into position. 

“Sexpert, but thank you!” The lid popped open again, cold and viscous lube being dripped directly onto your ass, “Finally some recognition around here.” He coated himself with what was still on his hands, and raised your hips to line himself up.

“Deep breaths, okay?” He leaned over your back, kisses falling down your skin. Two hands held your hips, one guided himself into you. You tensed when his head began to push in, “Relaaax, just like the fingers.”

A muffled, “okay” from your place in the pile. Your heart was suddenly racing, erection now gone. He wiped his dick up and down your ass, swiping past your entrance, dragging the edge of your hole with the crook of his head. Lining up, he pushed in, getting his head firmly sunk into you.

“Breath, baby,” he moaned into your shoulder. You took a deep breath in, your body tight still. But, it didn’t hurt like you’d thought. It burned, but there was no sting, no tearing. Angel’s hands ran up and down your sides, along you ass and thighs. He gently touched everywhere he could reach, until he felt you soften, “Ready to keep going?”

“Yes please”, you turned your head to look at him.

He pulled out slightly to collect more lube on his shaft, before slowly sinking into you until he bottomed out.

You were gasping, your brain misfiring. You couldn’t feel anything but him, your body just a formless thought with Angel’s warm, solid cock reaching deeper into than you thought possible. One roaming hand reached for your shoulder, “Can I move?”

“Slow,” your hand searched for a loose fold of comforter to grip, but it was soon encased and intertwined by one of his.

He pulled out, and slowly thrust back in. A saccharine moan fell from his mouth, and it made you whimper. 

You were so soft around him, yet your entrance was gripping him so snuggly he felt like he was melting into you. His breath was unsteady, “You feel so good on my cock, baby.” A burning blush took over your face, your erection jumping back to life.

“How ya doin’?” Angel sounded nervous, timid.

You had to collect saliva to get any words out, mouth running dry from panting, “S’good.” You tried again, “So good.” Your fingers tightened around his.

He adjusted his hips, watching you closely. When your eyes closed and your hand nearly broke his, he grinned down, “Bingo~,” his speed began to pick up. 

“Fuuuuck, Angel-,” you dragged out the last syllable of his name. You could feel your orgasm returning after dying down earlier. 

Angel took languid thrusts out to the tip and pushing back past your still resisting entrance. Every time he pulled out and slipped in felt better than before. The sensations of him opening you around his cock again and again had your stomach and thighs tensing. You brought your hand up to stroke your own pulsing dick, slowly pumping. 

Angel’s hand came down and wrapped around your cock, taking over your own attempts. The feeling of him in you and around you was overwhelming.

“Cumming,” You hissed, squeezing his hand tighter, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower. His repeated pressing of your g-spot pushed you over the edge, hand slowly milking you of every drop of cum.

Angel’s moans got louder, your body tightening in spasms as you emptied your balls onto the towel. Your body was so inviting, warm walls sucking his head deeper. He rarely got to feel this sensation. His head rested against your back, hands running along the curve of your hips as he melted into your sweet heat.

He picked up speed, only drawing out an inch or so now with each thrust. The lube made a pop and squelch every time his skin pulled from yours, the sound making his legs weak.

“Where can I cum?” His breath was raspy, messy with the pleasure of your soft insides rubbing along his shaft. You gripped the blanket, dick jerking from the feeling of Angel chasing his release with your body. You could hear the strain in his voice, “Gonna need an answer real fast, babe.” You hid your face in the pillow mountain again, embarrassed to answer.

“Inside,” you tried to say it loudly enough for him to hear.

He whimpered a, “Fuuuuck” down your spine, “Such a dirty little virgin.” His hips stuttered before he sunk into you with such force your legs gave out. Your body came down flush onto the bed, towel sticking to your stomach and thighs. Angel was pressed into you, chest against your back as his breathing calmed. You could feel his heart through your ribs, his chest fluff silky on your skin. Your body was warm, his hot cum filling you.

Small, lazy kisses on your back, then up your neck, he leaned to kiss your cheek. He slid out of you delicately, but you didn’t move.  His weight left the bed, then returned as a warm, wet cloth wiped you clean. After a couple of minutes of gentle cleaning, you felt the throw blanket cover your back. Angel plopped down on his back beside you, pulling the blanket over his legs and unlocking his phone, “Wanna see this fuckin’ hilarious video of my boss runnin’ into a glass wall?”

You chuckled, nodding, making no effort to get up. One of his hands came down and ruffled your hair, he leaned in to your head and as you watched Valentino collide head first into a wall, he said softly, “Let me know if you need anything. I got a bitchin’ tub in there.”

You hummed, reaching a shakey hand up and pressing ‘replay’ on his phone. Angel’s laughter echoed off the walls, and you decided you had no plans on leaving bed anytime soon.

Sweet smut inspired by HunnyPaint on pornhub and fansly! 🍯🎨 If you like femboyxfemboy, I highly recommend. They make love look hot. Their fansly is also priced well! 10/10 (again, talking to legal adult humans here)

༻Masterlist༺

[starkeyisthelastname]

It’s Always Been You Chapter Two:

Here’s chapter two my loves! 🥰 Disney World here we come! Yeah and Topper is super annoying in this series.. 😅 (I haven’t been to Disney World in years, so this just comes from a little background and research!)

Previous Chapter

"Why the fuck am I even awake right now?" Rafe grumbled to you as he climbed out of his F-150 truck that was now crookedly parked next to the sleek white Mercedes you drove. With an irritated sigh, he opened the back door to pull his bags out, nearly throwing them down onto the hard asphalt of the tarmac.

Rafe's grumpiness in the mornings was legendary, a trait that had been firmly in place even back in your elementary school days. You could still recall those car rides to private school, with either Rose or your mom at the wheel, Rafe grumbling in the seat beside you. So, when you slammed your trunk shut, your expensive tote bag slung over your shoulder and your large pink suitcase clutched in one hand, his predictable morning grouchiness was met with a healthy dose of eye-rolling from you. You yanked open the passenger door, leaning in to grab the frozen coffee you'd picked up for him. "Drink this and shut up," you ordered, practically throwing the cup at him.

Rafe shot you a smirk as you handed him the coffee, something only you would do for him. "You aren't going to tell people I drink this girly shit, are you?” He teased, his eyes traveling down to the way your ass looked in the tight leggings you wore. The things he wanted to do to you, whether they were wrong of him to think about as you were his best friend, but fuck did he want you bad.

“How did you know? It’s my plan to tell everyone that the big bad Rafe Cameron likes caramel frappuccino’s.” You said, standing back up straight, oblivious to the way he had been staring at your body. You turned to face him again, Rafe’s eyes immediately focusing on your own.

“Okay smart ass.” Rafe mumbled, hiding a smirk as the two of you began to make your way to the Cameron’s private plane.

Your parents were settled in, engaged in a boring business conversation with Rose and Ward over steaming cups of coffee. Wheezie had already dozed off, her blanket snugly over her head, while Sarah and her boyfriend Topper giggled at some TikTok video playing on her phone. Rafe shot a disapproving glance at the frosted-tipped haired boy as he strode past you toward your usual seats. Sarah and him didn’t get along most of the time, and her boyfriend Topper only made it worse for him to keep his anger in check as the idiot was constantly running his mouth to be a smartass. People like him were the reason Rafe had to always have his vape and cart pen on him.

“Why is he coming? They've been dating for what? Five fucking minutes.” Rafe grumbled, plopping down into the leather seat next to the window as he took his sunglasses off. You sat down next to him, placing your bag on the spacious floor, before getting comfortable. “What? Sarah’s boyfriend isn’t aloud to come?” You asked with a small laugh, looking over at the couple. Even though Rafe and Sarah didn’t get along, you and her were close, despite her being a few years younger. Topper wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around, but he was making Sarah happy which was what mattered.

Rafe leaned his head back against the plush headrest, looking at you as you sipped on your coffee. You were so effortlessly beautiful even makeup free, still looking like a stunner. Your eyelashes were freshly filled, eyebrows threaded and lips lightly glossed in the Dior lip oil he knew you always wore. One thing he loved about you is that you always kept yourself together, even at a time like this where there was an early flight. You were expensive, and high maintenance, always taking pride in the way you looked. It was starting to eat him up inside at how much he just wanted to shower you with compliments.

“He’s a fuckin prick who is always trying to get under my skin on purpose just to piss me off so he can see me flip out.” Rafe said, buckling his seat belt as the pilot announced they were about to take off. It was hard enough for him to try and control his anger and someone like Topper Thornton didn’t help when he was trying to do his best to be a better man and figure out his emotions.

You fastened your own belt, reaching over to intertwine your fingers with his as taking off always made you anxious. “He’s not worth it, don’t let him get to you. If he chooses to act like an idiot that’s on him not you.” You told him, running your finger across the gold signet ring that adored his left hand. You knew how important it was for him to try and do better after getting clean.

Rafe was so goddamn in love with you, it fucking almost scared him…and he had done some pretty scary shit. You were the only one who understood him. The calm to his brutal storm. He gave your hand a squeeze, kicking himself in the head on why he couldn’t be a man and tell you how he really felt about you. He had to figure out his emotions and fast before he lost you to someone that would never be worth your time.

Rafe seemed to be in a somewhat better mood as the plane landed, and he had eaten breakfast. That mood quickly changed though as he found out you two were riding in the same car as Sarah and Topper. You could see him from your peripheral vision, trying not to bang his head against the car window as Topper talked non stop. His hand came down to the pocket of his sweatpants, digging in them for a few seconds before pulling out the dark blue cart pen. He took a hit off of it, inhaling the smoke before blowing it out the cracked window.

“You know I don’t think those are the best for you man.” Topper said from behind you as Rafe took another hit. He was such an asshole, and as much as you loved Sarah you didn’t know how she put up with those smartass comments.

“Don’t care.” Rafe said, nonchalantly as he felt the weed cool his inner self down from the yapping that frosted tipped idiot was spewing.

It was Topper’s comment of “One addiction to another.” Whispered loudly on purpose to Sarah, that had Rafe immediately turning around.

“What the fuck did you just say?” He asked, blue eyes flashing dark in anger. The last thing that he needed was this dumbass to start speaking about shit he didn’t even know about in the first place. You slowly reached over, placing your hand on Rafe’s knee to give a gentle squeeze, knowing you were the only person that he would calm down for. You knew exactly how violent Rafe could get, and when he was on cocaine it was about 50 times worse. As hard as it was, and definitely wasn’t right, Topper wasn’t worth losing his cool over.

“Top, don’t.” Sarah told him softly, not wanting a fight already to happen on this trip. As much as she loved Topper and didn’t necessarily get along with Rafe, she still knew her boyfriend didn’t stand a chance with her older brother if his mood got to a 100.

“Fuckin pussy.” Rafe mumbled under his breath, turning back around and looking at you with apologetic blue eyes. God, he just wanted to be the best version of himself for you. There was no way you would ever give him a chance if he kept flipping out at every little thing that pissed him off. He had to keep the promise to himself to really try and do better, but that punk was already getting on his last nerves.

Thankfully the rest of the car ride to the resort went smoothly, the suv soon pulling into The Grand Floridian Resort & Spa. The entire family headed into the lobby, where Ward checked in and then told everyone the suite arrangements. Your parents along with Ward and Rose would be staying in one suite, while the rest of you would be staying in the other.

“There’s a room with two queen beds and one with a king size bed.” Ward started, handing the five of you keys. Before Wheezie could even say it, the older man put his hand up. “And Rafe is getting the king size bed.” He said, causing the 13 year old to pout. He then told the five of you to go explore the resort, relax or whatever you wanted to do before meeting at the restaurant Victoria and Albert’s later for dinner.

You couldn’t help but watch Rafe as he walked in front of you. You loved how tall he was, his frame massive and broad shoulders and muscular back, flexing effortlessly throughout the black t-shirt he wore. He was like a tree you wanted to climb and if you ever told him that out loud, he would most likely jokingly call you a dumbass. You quickly brushed your thoughts away as everyone piled onto the elevator, realizing every little thing Rafe was doing had you thinking about him.

The way you were standing, your back was pressed to Rafe’s front. He could smell your perfume, sexy and sweet just like your gorgeous self. Your perfectly shaped ass was too damn close to him, his hands gripping onto the railing to keep himself from wrapping his arms around your waist, and holding you against him. He was thankful yet disappointed that the elevator climbed to the right floor quickly before he lost control. You were damn near making it almost impossible, every little thing you did reminding him how in love with you he was. He had to start making some kind of move, even to see if you were open to the idea of being more than just best friends.

Entering the suite, you couldn’t help but laugh a little as both you’re parents always made sure everyone had the best. The suite was spacious, a small living area and kitchenette on the left side, while the right side held a small hall with two bedrooms spilt across from each other. It was when you were following behind Wheezie towards the room with the queen beds, that you felt Rafe tug your arm back.

You frowned, looking at him as you wanted to go set your stuff down. His tall body looked massive in the dim hallway, as you looked up into his blue eyes. He nodded towards the room behind him, before speaking. “Stay with me.” He said, his voice a little softer than usual.

You were no stranger to sharing a bed with Rafe, you had literally known him your entire life. You weren’t sure if it was your overwhelming feelings for him or what, but something about this felt different. You found yourself nodding though, watching him smile as he dragged you into the room with the king size bed.

“Can’t let my favorite girl suffer in there with Wheezie’s snoring and Sarah and bozo’s bullshit.” He said, shutting the door behind him. He loved his sisters, sure. You were superior to everyone in his mind though, especially since he was an asshole to every other female but you.

His favorite girl. It was something you heard often but never got tired of. You sat your bag down onto dresser, walking over to the window where you couldn’t help but smile at the view. “You bitched about coming here in the first place and you still get the room with the best view.” You teased him, pretty eyes glancing at Cinderella’s castle in the distance.

Rafe did get the room with the best view and it wasn’t Cinderella’s castle. “Yep, sure do. Wanna know why?” He asked, his long legs walking across the room to stand behind you so that he could see out the window better and just be near you again.

You hummed, looking back at him as his baby blue eyes shined in the sunlight as he looked down you. He smirked, leaning in closer towards your ear. “Because I’m fuckin Rafe Cameron and I get a whatever I want.” He whispered, his voice sending goosebumps down your skin as his hot breath tickled your neck. He had to make you his by the end of the week, he couldn’t go back to Kildare without having tried to tell you how he really felt about you. If you rejected him, it would be the most painful thing he would experience, but at least he would know.

tag list: @alinavalentine @rafesfuckdoll @ijustwanttoreadlols @maybankslover @rafeyswrd @gh0stsp1d3r @chenslucy @mattyskies @skye-44 @xoxohlala @saveahorserideaspacecowboy

if i missed anyone or you’d like to be added let me know! 💖

[gguk-n]

Mission- Cheer up Logan

I've just had a sad dream with Logan in it and I told him how much I love him and how important he is after watching all the shit Williams and Vowles have been doing. I need this to heal myself. I hope it heals everyone rooting for Logan too

Summary- Literal Logan fluff.

Y/N didn't dislike many people and hate would be a strong word in her dictionary but right now James Vowles and the Williams racing team made her hate them with the tirade they had going against her poor boyfriend which was pissing her off; worst of all, it was affecting Logan. Her happy puppy of a boyfriend was lost. He would either be at work or looking lost and depressed at home. They no longer had witty conversations going on or Y/N teasing Logan any and every chance she got. He would barely smile at her at times. So, Y/N took it upon herself to make her Logan happy.

It was one of those days, the weather was bright and sunny, Logan didn't have to go to work and the previous GP may have been bad but it was slightly better. It was around 9 and they were still in bed. Y/N woke up to Logan 'asleep' at least he pretended to be. She knew him like the back of her hand and every time he acted like he was sleeping his eyes would be shut tight. This habit of his made her smile. She looked up at him while resting her palms against his chest.

Y/N POV

"Good morning, baby boy" I whispered followed by a kiss on the lip which was followed by a grunt and covering his face with the blanket. "Babe, we need to good shopping, we're out of everything." I emphasised. "You can do that alone" he said, still under the duvet. "Yes but you know I hate shopping alone and I wanna show off my super hot racer boyfriend to the world, come on." I said while pulling the covers off. His big blue eyes met mine and I pouted my lips. "I won't take long, I promise. Pinky promise." I exclaimed while holding out my pinky. "You're hurting my ribs, babe." came a strangled cry only to notice my elbow jabbing his ribs. I giggled while apologising and dragging him to the bathroom. We were dressed in 20 minutes and out the door. As Logan started the car, he looked at me and said, "The only reason you're taking me along is so that I can drive you there, right?" I was appalled at the accusation but replied with a smile, "one of the reasons, babe." I said. He laughed asking, "Couldn't you drive there yourself?" "Why would I do something when I have a pro who can do it for me." Logan shook his head. "I have the hottest formula 1 driver at my beck and call so am not even allowed to show him off; is an atrocity I say." dramatically sighing. Logan let out a big laugh, one I hadn't heard pass his lips in ages. It made my heart flutter and tears spring up in my eyes.

The car ride was filled with singing along to songs playing on the radio which we hadn't done in so long. It felt nice to be able to have my Logan back. The trip to the grocery store was uneventful. Once back, I made quick work of putting every thing away. I went back to Logan sat on the couch in the living room and made myself comfortable on his lap, "darling, what would you like for dinner?" He was pulled back from whatever thought he had as I sat on his lap, "Pizza and Pasta" He said. I looked him in the eyes and asked, "What about we go on a date?" Logan looked at me quizzically. "It could be a home date, like the good old days. We could cook together and then dress up to have dinner together. I even bought a few dresses I didn't get to show you." I elaborated.

Logan's POV

In all honesty I couldn't care what we did. I didn't really wanna go out and getting dressed just to eat at home was such a waste of time. But I couldn't say no, when her face was literally hoping for me to say yes. She kept looking at me expectantly and I didn't wanna let another person down, so I agreed. The way her face lit was better than winning any GP. She leaned in and gave me the sloppiest kiss and pulled me to the kitchen to help her cook. I would never say I could cook when Y/N did all the heavy lifting. "Baby boy, you look lost in thought. Is there another woman that is occupying your thoughts?" she said in a southern accent while placing both her arms around my shoulder and wrapping them around my neck. It made my breathe hitch; the effect this woman had on me even after so many years was shocking to say the least. I placed my hands on her waist and replied in an equally fake southern accent, "Darling, there ain't no woman worth my time when you're standing in front of me." "You better." she said while leaving multiple kissed on my face making me laugh. The cooking ended quiet quickly for two people; where one of them couldn't cook and the other kept violating ever health and safety protocol by kissing and touching the person next to them.

Y/N POV

We were almost done with dinner and I asked Logan to go dress up. I would get dressed just before plating the food in the guest room because I didn't want Logan to see the outfit I had planed for him. About 15 minutes later, Logan was back at the table and I left to get dressed. It took me only 20 minutes which was a record. I wore a black lacy mini-dress which barely covered my ass and tits at the same time but it made me look hot and that's all that mattered. I stepped out of the room to an eagerly waiting Logan.

Logan's POV

My mouth was on the floor when I saw what she was wearing. "You don't plan on wearing this out, do you?" I said and then quickly added, "If you did, I don't mind. I can fight but I need this image burnt into my retinas." I ogled. She giggled and walked towards me, "You can take it off, once dinner is over." She whispered in my ear. Dinner was done in record time. We headed to the bedroom so that I could hold her to her words.

While cuddling, Y/N said, "You know, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me." I cut her off because she was the best thing that has ever happened to me. Y/N shushed me, "Right now, I'm talking and you're gonna listen. I love you Logan Sargeant more than there are words that I can use to express myself. I'm so happy every day to wake up next to you and support you in achieving your dreams and aspirations. I hope you remember how good you are and deserve everything you've worked towards. A couple fuck ups don't undermine the talent and hard work that is Logan Sargeant. No matter what anyone says, you are the most handsome and talented driver that deserves to be in F1. Those assholes are blind to not be able to see your pure raw unfiltered talent. I love you baby boy." She finished her speech. There were tears in my eyes that had started flowing which Y/N wiped away with a kiss. I pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so lucky to have you. Thank you for sticking with me. I promise I won't let you down or let anyone make me feel like crap again." She smiled while drawing a heart on my back. We fell asleep wrapped in each others arms.

[sweetlittlefawntears]

soft puppy ♱

au : sent to me by a lovely request ,, basically ellie is oblivious to ur crush on her so she flirts w other ppl cuz she doesn’t think u like her n then … u get the gist but read n find out hehe …

cw : fem reader x ellie williams , ellie is a smoker , fingering , reader is described as having long hair , international lowercase ! there is smut in this one !! smut w a plot ! also pet names ! not proofread sorry forgive me .

wc : 2.7k ♡

౨ৎ you worked at a small local coffee shop, with around three other workers who you periodically saw throughout the week. you didn’t care much for working, but you did like the pay. you were also grateful that since it was a small local shop, you didn’t have a uniform.

౨ৎ you never took much mind about your coworkers, they were a distraction, and besides, you were too busy with your mind on school and other silly things. that was, until you saw her.

౨ৎ she had short auburn hair, that she ruffled out of the way of her face as she used her slender fingers to tie half of it up into a ponytail. she had a slender but muscular figure, and lots and lots of tattoos. did i mention the most dreamy emerald eyes ever? you were totally, unbelievably in love with this woman.

౨ৎ when she came over to you and told you she’d be working in the coffee shop, you almost passed out. you were so happy that you could barely mutter an “okay” before you turned around and busied yourself with making a coffee for some woman at the front.

౨ৎ during your break, you went into the bathroom to look in the mirror and fix your hair. you started at your cute striped blue and white sweater and denim shorts, both of which you had thrifted and were actually quite proud of. the coffee shop got super cold really easily, so you were still a bit chilly as you turned the shiny tap on the sink to wash your hands.

౨ৎ you looked down at your shoes and socks. some old white shoes with white frilly socks. you looked back up at the mirror before applying some chapstick, and then someone walked in. it was her! the girl from before.

౨ৎ “hey, sorry. don’t mean to interrupt.” she says as she washes her hands in the sink. “uh. no problem.” you say, as you grab your bag and walk out of the restroom.

౨ৎ a few weeks had passed since that moment. you always watched ellie from afar, but whenever she came close it was like you were a babbling incoherent ball of nerves. it was so horrible, because you had never felt this way with a crush you had ever had before her.

౨ৎ you tried your best to stay calm, but unfortunately for you, you couldn’t talk to the girl without blushing profusely at her stupid three word sentences. you knew it was dumb, really, how childish you were acting. “god, why am i being so crazy? just talk to her!” you told yourself mentally.

౨ৎ you looked around for ellie, who you unfortunately spotted right next to a who you recognized. she was an extremely attractive girl named dina who you had worked with for a few months before ellie showed up. ellie was clearly having a very in depth conversation with her , as she was chatting animatedly to dina. you saw them and it made your heart ache, as you wished you could talk that easily to ellie.

౨ৎ ellie leaned in towards dina to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear, and you felt your heart sink even more. “seriously, her?” you thought to yourself. sure, dina was pretty, but she could also be bitchy at point. you should know , you worked with her for almost a year. you tried to brush it off, but no matter how much you wanted, whenever ellie and dina talked it made you angry beyond belief. it was like nails on a chalkboard every time you overheard them talking.

౨ৎ you decide that it’s time to start getting close to ellie. you don’t want her to go off to some other girl without you ever even getting to meet her or see what goes on in that inevitably beautiful little mind of hers.

౨ৎ one night, after you and ellie are giving the task of closing up, you decide to make your move. you approach ellie as you and her walk out, and mutter a small “so, we haven’t really talked much even though we’ve been working together pretty long… seems about time we get to know each other, right?” you were so surprised how easily the words came off your tongue after about a month of just stuttering at her. you hear the words roll off your tongue like a stranger.

౨ৎ “hey, yeah. i’d love that.” ellie says as she pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. she lights the cigarette and puts it up to her mouth, taking a long inhale and exhaling the smoke, which floats away all pretty and swirly in the breeze. “sorry, did you want some?” ellie says , looking at you with that piercing gaze.

౨ৎ “oh, um, sure.” you weren’t a smoker by any means, but you weren’t exactly thinking in the situation. you inhaled the cigarette before exhaling and then coughing a bit. “god, that is nasty. how do you smoke that crap?” you say aloud before realizing . “haha, you know, i’m not sure. i just kinda… like it i guess.” she says as she exhales more gray whirls of smoke.

౨ৎ you couldn’t believe it. here you were, having an actual fucking conversation with this girl ellie .ellie williams. ellie sofuckinghot williams. you looked up at her . “so…i know we don’t know each other that well, but would you like to maybe go out sometime?” you say, smiling. again was that sensation that it wasn’t you talking. who was this new personality that inhabited your soul?

౨ৎ “oh, yeah! sure.” ellie says. she starts to walk to her car. “as friends, right? see you!” she says before hopping into her car, slamming the door and driving off. you stand there, mouth agape. what the fuck? that could not have been clearer that was a date. you stand there in disbelief before walking to your car and getting in. you mentally hit yourself in the head over and over. “cmon , seriously ellie? is she slow or something?” you think to yourself maybe she already has a girlfriend, but something told you she did not.

౨ৎ meanwhile, ellie mulls over the conversation in her bedroom, while polishing her guitar. “she didn’t mean like, a date right? no way. she couldn’t have…” she thinks to herself. “it’s better this way, that way i don’t actually think she likes me and make a fool out of myself. seriously…there’s no way that was a date right? i mean…just as friends…” she talks aloud to herself as her voice trails off. she sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “fuck…” she says aloud.

౨ৎ that night, for both of you, is filled with sighs from ellie and sobs from you into your pillow. goddamnit, if only the two of you could see!

౨ৎ the next day at work was a friday, and you decided to come in late. when you walk in, you see ellie. “fuck me.” you think to yourself. “of course she’s fucking here.” you work around her all day, not wanting to say another word to her.

౨ৎ ellie is completely oblivious to your upset feelings, and still thinks that there was no way a girl like you could want to ask a girl like her out on a date. there was just no way. she told herself that over and over throughout the entire day.

౨ৎ friday evening, you approach ellie, ready to give her a piece of your mind. “ellie, be truthful with me here. i don’t want to go out as just friends, so if that’s what you want, tell me. because i’m not looking at you as just a friend material.” ellie is shocked, in disbelief. “fuck, it was a date ?” she thinks to herself. “i- i just- it’s complicated a bit-” she stutters to you. “fine, ellie. i don’t have it in me to be rejected by you tonight. see you monday, i guess .” you start to walk away before you hear her voice call “wait!” you turn around as she says “come back, please..” you oblige, wanting to see what this will turn into.

౨ৎ she looks down at her beaten up converse. “how was i supposed to know that you like me…?” she says, still not able to meet your eyes. she wanted to blame you for this, because if she admitted to not knowing, it made her look like an idiot. “excuse me?” you say. “it was completely and blatantly obvious i had a crush on you. are you kidding me?” you say back. “okay, okay, listen. im sorry. just…can you please forgive me? i do like you. i want to get to know you better.” you blush as you look down at your hands . “yeah…i can.” you say. “let me take you home, please?” ellie says as she gestures to her car. this isn’t exactly how you’d imagined or even planned getting with ellie, but you wanted to see where this would go.

౨ৎ she holds the door open to the passenger seat for you and then gets in to drive you home. except, she definitely does not have any plan to take you back to your house. instead, she takes you back to her apartment. “do you maybe wanna… come in and hang out?” she rubs the back of her neck nervously. “yes…i do.” you say.

౨ৎ once you two are in her apartment, you look around at how she decorated the place. it’s very cozy, with posters and pictures all over the walls. it’s a new place, which looks very modern and nice. you feel safe there.

౨ৎ ellie puts a hand on the back of your neck before placing another one on the small of your back. “cmere, lemme kiss you?” before you could even respond, you find yourself in a passionate kiss as you grab the back of ellie’s neck, pulling her closer towards you. “needy already? alright, i can work with that.” she says, smiling at you.

౨ৎ soon you find yourself and ellie on the couch, with her on top of you, hands by each side of your head. ellie starts to slowly unbutton your shorts as you cup the side of her face, still leaning in towards the kiss. ellie slowly pulls the zipper from your shorts down. she looks at your underwear, white with hearts. if you had known that you would be doing this tonight, you would’ve worn something better. “cute…” she smiles to herself as she mutters under her breath. she slides your shorts down, still pursuing your lips in the steamy kiss.

౨ৎ her hands stroke down your abdomen as they end up at the waist of your underwear. “can i?” ellie asks, looking at you. “yes, please, do.” you say as you exhale heavily. ellie pulls your underwear and shorts down, tossing them to the side to worry about later. she looks down at you. “you’re really pretty, bun. you know that?” she says as she pulls you up a bit, changing positions so you are laying with your back to her chest as she places one firm hand on your waist.

౨ৎ her hand trails down, finding it’s way in between your legs. you feel her finger slide along your slick, before finding its way to the small bundle of nerves. she would never neglect your pearl. she traces small circles along the sensitive bud as she whispers into your ear . “shh, i got you. just relax.” she moves her finger slowly, and gently, which drives you insane. you let out small whimpers as she continues.

౨ৎ you softly grab her forearm as she moves her fingers further down. she quickly moves a finger inside you, feeling your gummy walls tighten beneath her. “ellieeee…” you moan out. “it’s okay, just tell me if it’s too much and i’ll stop.” she whispers into your ear. She moves her finger, hitting that spot in the back of you that made you moan out. without any warning she slides another finger inside you. she softly moves her fingers in and out, giving you just enough pressure and friction to feel amazing.

౨ৎ you whine softly as she continues to pound into you, going faster and rougher. she wanted to hear you beg and scream for it, but she didn’t know how much you could take . “cmon bun, lemme hear you.” she says as she moves her fingers outside of you again to tease your puffy clit. “ellie…please don’t stop.” you whimper, unable to say more. “that the best you got?” she says as she keeps trailing circles around your small bud. “thought i told you i wanted to hear you beg for it” you mutter something along the lines of begging, and that seemed to be good enough for ellie.

౨ৎ she moves her two fingers back inside you. she moves them into you for a few minutes while softly muttering praises into your ear . “you can cum whenever you want, pup .” she says, reaching up under your shirt to palm at your tit. you didn’t need her to say that twice, as it took only a few more seconds for you to finish all over her fingers.

౨ৎ she moves her fingers slowly as you cover her hand in milky white, she doesn’t waste a second bringing her fingers up to her mouth so she can taste you. she whispers in your ear. “you were so good for me…” she grabs your own panties from the couch and slides them back on you, muttering apologies as you winced from still being sensitive. “do you want to spend the night here?” she whispers softly to you. “yes…” you trail off.

౨ৎ she helps you get into bed, bringing you some water and then giving you one of her band tees to sleep in. You feel her come up behind you in her bed, wrapping her arms around your waist. she kisses the back of your neck before saying, “i hope we can do this again.” you mutter something like a goodnight to her, and then you’re out. It had been such a long day that you didn’t have any energy left in you.

౨ৎ the next day you wake up to ellie still sleeping next to you. “so, what are we gonna do today?” you ask her. “she gets up and smiles at you. “whatever you want, pretty girl.”

♡ OKAYYY that’s it for this fic i’m sorry it was better in my head n tbh like … this fic is lowkey really fucking bad um ,, i feel like i didn’t do as good of a job writing the smut as i wanted hopefully u guys like it ahahahahshsh ,,, i have some more ideas i think u guys will like better but i’m rushed to put out smut on this account to keep it growing ,, okay that’s it i love you all ! ♡